be.inkredible

˙⋆☕︎  ༘ 23 babe✨️

[inkredibleworld]

ɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ - Masterlist

A crossover fanfic featuring JJK x F!Reader x Bonten Arc (Tokyo Revengers)

synopsis.

You were just a high school girl with a strange ability to see monsters no one else could — until that day changed everything.

A terrifying incident revealed the truth: you were a sorcerer.

Curious and desperate for answers, you left everything behind and enrolled at Tokyo Jujutsu High. But it wasn’t just a sudden disappearance — it was your decision. You chose to walk away from the people you loved, the boys from Tokyo Manji, to protect them from the darkness chasing you.

The distance grew. The messages stopped. And slowly, the friendships cracked.

Years later, you're a full-fledged sorcerer sent on a mission: investigate a cursed bar rumored to house one of Sukuna’s fingers.

What you didn’t expect?

The bar belongs to Bonten — Japan’s most feared crime syndicate.

And the ghosts of your past?

They’re no longer just memories.

They’ve become kings of the underworld.

•••

Prologue Chapter 01 Chapter 13 Chapter 02 Valentine's Day: A Special Chapter Chapter 03 Chapter 14 Chapter 04 Chapter 15 - Coming Soon ✨ Chapter 05 Chapter 06 Chapter 07 Chapter 08 Chapter 09 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Taglist: @heath-ledger-jokers-wife @20201816 @c-monthecob @nightdark-dreamdark @khiarsa @ela-cc @linlindog @vvhira @alebrasil0101 @burekforsatoru @camslut7 @magdalenacarmila

[inkredibleworld]

ɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

A crossover fanfic featuring JJK x F!Reader x Bonten Arc (Tokyo Revengers)

Chapter 14

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Low murmurs filled the chamber, layered and persistent, as the elders of the Jujutsu Society convened behind closed doors. The room itself was dim, lit by traditional lamps that cast long shadows against wooden walls lined with scrolls. Age lingered in the air—age of tradition, of authority, of decisions made without question. Every seat at the circular table was occupied. The higher-ups had gathered to address a matter that could no longer be dismissed as a coincidence.

“The level of curse activity has increased significantly over the past few months,” one elder began, his voice steady but edged with concern. “The percentage surpasses last year’s numbers by an alarming margin.”

Another adjusted his robes before speaking. “The repercussions across certain regions of Japan are becoming difficult to contain. Civilian reports are rising. Structural damage in several districts has been documented.”

A scroll was unrolled across the table, marked with clusters of ink indicating recent manifestations.

“Most of the active curses have been traced to specific territories,” a third elder added. “High-ranking criminal organizations. The concentration is not random. It would be most efficient to eliminate the source directly.”

A faint scoff came from the far end. “Curses do not operate with strategic intent,” one elder countered. “They do not choose targets with discernment. They kill whatever is within reach.”

“That may be true under ordinary circumstances,” another replied. “However, intense negative emotion births powerful entities. High-ranking criminals foster resentment, greed, and violence. Such accumulations create fertile ground. A monster born from collective malice is not improbable.”

A pause followed.

“Perhaps,” someone said quietly. “But why now? Some of these organizations have operated for years. Why would manifestations spike at this particular time?”

No one answered immediately.

“That,” the first elder said at last, “is precisely why we must observe. Assumptions will not suffice.”

A different voice broke through the stillness. “Could this be the work of Geto Suguru? He has remained in hiding since the attack.”

The name lingered in the room like smoke.

“Whether it is him or not is irrelevant,” another elder stated. “We still possess our strongest assets. Gojo Satoru. Hirano Y/N.”

A subtle shift in attention occurred.

“Speaking of the girl,” one elder said slowly, “Gojo Satoru has formally recommended her for promotion.”

A faint hum of consideration followed.

“If she were to be elevated further,” an older voice responded, “could she be controlled? Her responses to this council have not always reflected submission. Furthermore, her prior association with Geto Suguru remains… concerning. He was once a special grade. He is now expelled and marked for elimination. We have no confirmation that contact between them has ceased.”

Silence deepened.

“We will acknowledge her promotion only when her loyalty is proven,” the first elder concluded. “Obedience must precede advancement. That will be our condition.”

The decision settled without objection.

The meeting adjourned shortly after. Formal bows were exchanged. One by one, the elders exited through separate corridors, careful to avoid attracting attention beyond the chamber’s walls.

Only one remained.

He did not stand immediately. Instead, he slipped a hand into his sleeve and withdrew a thin sheet of paper. It bore a single word written in dark ink.

Bonten.

He studied it for a moment before leaning toward the nearby lamp. The flame flickered as the edge of the paper met its heat. Fire slowly consumed the ink, curling the edges inward until nothing remained but ash.

Only then did he rise from his seat.

Without a word, he turned and exited the chamber, leaving the faint scent of smoke behind.

Bonten Headquarters

A sharp screech cut through the early evening air as a sleek black car came to a precise stop at the entrance of the Bonten headquarters. The building loomed above the street, its glass reflecting the dimming sky as the last traces of sunlight faded. The vehicle’s windows were fully tinted, concealing whoever sat inside. From the outside, it looked empty, silent, and still.

One of Bonten’s lackeys stepped forward from his post near the gate. His expression carried the usual mix of suspicion and arrogance reserved for uninvited visitors. He circled the front of the car, boots echoing faintly on the pavement, and stopped beside the driver’s side window. He knocked firmly against the glass.

“Roll down your window. What’s your business here?”

For a brief second, nothing happened. Then the window slid down smoothly, revealing a brunette man with neatly slicked-back hair. His posture was composed, his expression calm. Behind him, in the back seat, another figure sat quietly. The person’s face was partially obscured by shadows, gaze directed toward the window without acknowledging the guard.

“He wishes to speak with the head of Bonten,” the driver said evenly, his tone polite yet firm.

The lackey stared at him for a moment before letting out a loud, mocking laugh. “Hahaha, you wish. Not happening, pal.”

The driver only smiled.

The lackey continued to grin, clearly amused by what he considered an absurd request. He was about to speak again when his smile faltered. His body stiffened. Something—something unseen—slid against his leg. At first, he thought it was his imagination. Then it crept higher, coiling around his torso. His breath hitched.

The sensation tightened around his neck.

His laughter died instantly. His hands flew to his throat as he staggered backward, eyes wide with panic. He tried to speak, but only a strangled sound escaped. The other guards nearby noticed the sudden shift and rushed toward him.

“Oi, what’s wrong with you?” one of them called out.

The lackey couldn’t answer. He clawed at his collar, gasping, as if an invisible rope were squeezing the life out of him. The other men sensed something was off. Within seconds, tension spread through the entrance. A few of them stepped back while others instinctively raised their guns, aiming directly at the car.

Inside the vehicle, the driver remained unaffected. His posture did not change. His expression did not shift.

“Please,” he said calmly, his voice carrying just enough to reach the men outside. “We don’t want any trouble. My master only wishes to have a conversation.” His eyes flicked toward the struggling guard before returning to the others. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to experience what your comrade is experiencing.”

The threat was delivered without raising his voice.

The remaining lackeys hesitated. Their weapons remained trained on the car, but none of them dared to fire. They could not see what was happening to their comrade, yet the evidence was clear. Fear began to outweigh pride.

One of the men locked eyes with the driver for a long moment. Then, slowly, he lowered his weapon and broke the stare. He turned to another guard.

“Contact reception,” he ordered, his voice tight. “Tell them to inform the highest floor.”

The struggling lackey dropped to his knees, still clutching his throat as the unseen force continued to tighten, serving as a silent reminder that the people inside that car were not there to beg.

—

The members of Bonten had just concluded one of their weekly meetings. The atmosphere inside the room remained heavy, the air thick with the remnants of unresolved matters and quiet authority. Manjiro Sano sat at the head of the long table, posture relaxed yet commanding, his expression unreadable. The others lingered in their seats, some reviewing documents while others exchanged low remarks.

A firm knock interrupted the silence.

“Enter,” Takeomi responded, his tone measured.

The door opened smoothly, and Yuki stepped inside. Her posture was straight, her presence composed and professional. She bowed slightly before speaking.

“Excuse me, Manjiro-san,” she began in a steady, formal tone. “There are visitors outside requesting an audience with you.”

A faint scoff echoed from across the table.

“Huh? Do they want to die?” Sanzu said, leaning back in his chair. “Who are they to make demands?”

Yuki did not react to the comment. “The chaperone stated that their party believes they can be of assistance to Bonten,” she clarified.

Rindou clicked his tongue in irritation. “The hell do we need help for?”

“That,” a calm voice interrupted, “would be a very good question.”

The words came from behind Yuki.

Her body reacted before her mind did. She turned immediately, eyes widening at the sight of two men now standing inside the room. She had not heard the door open. She had not sensed their approach. For someone trained to remain aware at all times, the realization sent a cold ripple down her spine.

The first man appeared older, his short white hair framing a face lined with age yet untouched by frailty. He wore a traditional kimono, the fabric arranged with deliberate care. His posture was straight, his gaze steady and faintly amused. Beside him stood a younger man in a tailored suit, brunette hair slicked neatly back. His expression carried a polite smile, though there was calculation behind it.

What the hell… I didn’t notice them. I didn’t even feel them, Yuki thought, her composure straining beneath the shock.

The Bonten men reacted instantly. Chairs scraped against the floor as weapons were drawn and aimed at the two intruders. The room shifted from tension to hostility within seconds.

The older man exhaled softly. “Oh,” he said in an almost bored tone, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The younger man raised his left hand slowly.

In the next instant, a sharp metallic sound rang through the room. Every gun pointed at the older man fell apart cleanly at the breech, sliced as if by an invisible blade. The severed halves clattered onto the table and floor.

Shock rippled through the room. Profanities followed.

Sanzu’s grin vanished. Rindou stared at the broken weapon in his hand. Even Takeomi’s expression darkened.

Mikey, however, did not move. He remained seated at the head of the table, chin resting lightly against his knuckles, eyes fixed on the two men. He was not startled. He was assessing.

The younger man stepped forward and offered a deep bow.

“I sincerely apologize for my master’s abrupt entrance,” he said smoothly. “He tends to make rather unconventional first impressions. My name is Abe Daiki,” He straightened, gesturing respectfully toward the older man. “This is Osamu Eigen. He seeks what you might call… a collaboration.”

“We don’t need a collaboration,” Mikey replied flatly.

His voice was calm. Final.

Eigen’s lips curved slightly. “Oh, but you do.”

His gaze shifted across the room before settling on Yuki.

“You, girl,” he said, pointing toward her. “Fetch me a chair. What is the purpose of your standing there?”

He muttered something under his breath—an offhand remark about women that carried clear disdain.

Yuki felt heat rise to her face. The insult was deliberate. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. Who does he think he is? she thought, anger tightening in her chest.

She glanced toward Mikey.

Mikey gave a small nod.

The gesture was minimal, yet it carried weight. Yuki hesitated for a fraction of a second before lowering her gaze. She bowed formally.

“Understood,” she said evenly, masking her irritation beneath professionalism.

Without another word, she stepped out of the room to retrieve a chair, the door closing quietly behind her as the tension inside remained unbroken.

“Now,” Eigen began once Yuki had exited, and the doors shut firmly behind her. He went to the end of the table.

The younger man—Daiki—remained stationed near the entrance, posture straight, gaze alert, as though guarding it. The Bonten executives noticed the gesture. None of them commented. There was little point in posturing after witnessing their weapons being severed without contact. One by one, they returned to their seats, the tension shifting from aggression to wary calculation.

Eigen folded his hands neatly in front of him.

“I have a proposition,” he said, his voice measured. “I can provide you with curses. Fully trained. Conditioned under my supervision. They will assist you in eliminating competitors who threaten your organization.”

A faint scoff came from one end of the table; it was Sanzu. “Why would we need that now?” Takeomi replied. “We’ve survived for years using firearms.”

Eigen’s smile deepened, though it carried no warmth. “Yes. You survived within your own world. But you have since stepped into ours.” His gaze swept across the room. “You now face threats that cannot be perceived by ordinary sight. You require assistance, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not.”

He tapped a finger lightly against the table as if recalling something. “When was it again? Ah, yes. The attack on the main highway.”

Silence settled.

“You barely survived that encounter,” Eigen continued lightly. “If not for the intervention of the Jujutsu Tech students, the outcome would have been… unfortunate.”

Mikey did not move, but his gaze sharpened. He remembered the incident clearly. The sudden appearance of entities they could not comprehend. The damage. The narrow escape. He would not show weakness in front of these men, yet he understood the truth of it. Without outside interference, they would not have walked away.

Eigen straightened his back again. “I can also provide you with artifacts designed to eliminate curses.”

“And what do you want in return?” Mikey asked evenly.

His tone was flat, but his attention was focused.

“Surely,” Mikey added, “you are not offering such resources without expecting compensation.”

Eigen’s expression brightened. “This is precisely why I chose to approach you. You grasp matters quickly. The other organizations did not catch on quick”

He snapped his fingers once.

Daiki stepped forward, bowing slightly before connecting a device to a projector mounted against the far wall. An image flickered into view. It displayed several preserved, shriveled fingers sealed in containers.

“These,” Eigen said calmly, “are fragments of a particular entity. You may refer to them as Sukuna’s fingers.”

The room remained silent as the image shifted across the screen.

“I am not the only one seeking them,” Eigen continued. “However, I would greatly appreciate securing a number of them before others do. They are scattered all over Japan."

Kokonoi narrowed his eyes. “And what would you need them for?”

“To develop special projects,” Eigen replied, his smile returning.

The men exchanged glances. Doubt lingered in the air. No one trusted a man who entered a room unannounced and dismantled weapons without touching them.

“If I obtain several of these fragments,” Eigen went on, “I can enhance the curses under my control. Stronger entities. More efficient tools.” He paused, “Oh, and it could also assist you in eradicating other rival organizations.” He explained.

A knock interrupted him.

The door opened, and Yuki reentered carrying a chair. She placed it near the table.

“Finally,” Eigen muttered. “That took you long enough, girl.”

He took the chair from her with little regard. Yuki inhaled sharply but maintained her composure. She bowed and turned toward the door.

“It is merely rumor,” Eigen continued as though nothing had happened, “but the supposedly individual hunting your organization is reportedly someone once affiliated with the Jujutsu Society. Permanently banished.” He paused, observing their reactions. “And as I understand it, that individual maintains a close connection to Hirano-san.”

Yuki’s steps faltered.

Hirano?

Her thoughts moved quickly. It’s not Y/N… is it?

Eigen glanced toward Daiki. “Remind me, what was Hirano’s first name again?”

Daiki adjusted his posture slightly. “Miss Y/N, Master.”

The name settled over the room like a weight.

Every member of Bonten went still. Yuki’s hand remained on the door handle. Questions surfaced at once. Does Y/N know? Is she involved? Was her return a coincidence or something deliberate? Suspicion crept into each mind.

“Ah, yes,” Eigen said softly. “Y/N. That was her name.”

He folded his hands once more and looked directly at Mikey.

“So,” he concluded, “do we have a deal?”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Previous // Next

[inkredibleworld]

ɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

A crossover fanfic featuring JJK x F!Reader x Bonten Arc (Tokyo Revengers)

Valentine's Day: A Special Chapter

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The faint chirping of birds drifted in through the slightly open window, blending with the soft morning light that filtered across my room. It was peaceful. I was still curled up in my bed, clinging to the last threads of sleep, when suddenly the blanket was yanked off me without mercy.

“Yo, wake up, girl!” A seventeen-year-old Shoko’s voice rang out far too cheerfully for that hour of the morning.

I groaned and rolled onto my side, squinting against the brightness. “No, leave me alone,” I mumbled back, pulling a pillow over my head in protest, my eyes still stubbornly shut.

“C’mon, the guys are waiting,” Shoko continued, completely unbothered. “Suguru said Gojo’s going to treat us.”

“Why? What’s the occasion?” I asked, my voice muffled as I kept my eyes closed, hoping that if I didn’t fully wake up, they’d leave me be.

There was a dramatic pause before Shoko spoke again, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Have you seriously forgotten? We’ve been talking about this for weeks. It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh, God…” I groaned, burying myself deeper into the mattress as if I could disappear into it.

“Ugh, Y/N—” Shoko began, clearly losing patience.

“C’mon, what’s the hold up?” another voice chimed in from outside the room—bright, unmistakable, and far too energetic. Gojo.

“What’s wrong with her? Is she not feeling well?” came a softer voice right after, calm and gentle. Suguru.

“No, she’s fine. She refuses to wake up,” Shoko replied, and before I could protest, I felt her entire weight drop onto me as she dramatically lay on top of my back.

“Go away, Shoko. I’m tired,” I groaned, barely able to breathe under her. “I still have a mission later.”

“Oh, c’mon. It’s just for today,” she argued, lifting her head slightly. “What the hell is wrong with these higher-ups anyway? Sending us out even on holidays.”

“It is what it is,” Suguru said from the doorway, his tone calm and accepting. I could almost picture the understanding smile he was giving Shoko, the kind he always wore whenever things felt slightly unfair but unavoidable.

“Please, Y/N,” Shoko pressed again, her voice softening just a little. “It’s not every day Gojo offers to treat us, you know.”

There was a brief silence after that. The room felt warmer than before—not just because of Shoko lying on me, but because I could hear them all there, waiting. Even through my exhaustion, a small part of me felt guilty for keeping them outside.

Finally, I threw the pillow aside and pushed the blanket off completely. “Oh, fine,” I muttered, sitting up with messy hair and half-lidded eyes.

A victorious “Yey!” and a dramatic “Finally!” echoed from the hallway almost immediately.

“Get out. I have to get ready,” I said flatly, though there was no real irritation behind it anymore—just lingering sleepiness.

Shoko slid off me and hopped off the bed, grinning as if she had just won a battle. One by one, they began to file out of my room. Gojo’s tall frame disappeared first, still laughing about something under his breath. Shoko followed, stretching lazily as she stepped into the hallway.

Suguru, however, lingered.

He stood near the door, hands loosely tucked into his pockets, watching me with a soft, assessing look. “You good?” he asked gently.

“Yeah,” I replied, rubbing my eyes and offering him a small nod.

“You can sleep on the way there,” he said reassuringly. “Don’t worry—we’ll bring the car.”

I gave him a faint smile at that. “Thanks.”

He returned the smile, quiet and warm, before finally stepping out and closing the door behind him, leaving me alone with the soft morning light and the realization that, despite my protests, I wouldn’t have chosen to spend Valentine’s Day any other way.

The car was packed and loud from the moment the doors shut. One of the drivers from the Gojo family sat behind the wheel, steady and composed despite the chaos building behind him. Nanami occupied the passenger seat, already looking mildly exhausted as if he regretted agreeing to this the second he stepped inside the vehicle. The rest of us were crammed into the back, knees brushing, shoulders bumping every time the car turned. Gojo’s voice carried above everyone else’s, animated and relentless, while Shoko fired back at him without hesitation. Suguru added his occasional dry remarks, which only encouraged Gojo further.

I, on the other hand, stayed quiet in the far corner, my head resting against the cool window. The glass vibrated faintly with the movement of the car, and the morning sunlight flickered across my closed eyelids. Their banter blended into a dull hum—comforting, but distant. I must have drifted for a second because suddenly I felt a gentle shift. My head was lifted carefully away from the glass and redirected onto something warmer and steadier.

I opened my eyes slightly and realized Suguru had adjusted my position, letting my head rest on his shoulder instead. He didn’t look at me right away, still engaged in his back-and-forth with Gojo. “You can use my shoulder,” he said casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It’s more comfortable than the window.” Then he resumed arguing with Gojo about something trivial, his tone calm as ever.

I didn’t respond verbally. I simply allowed myself to settle there. The fabric of his shirt was warmer than the glass had been, and the subtle rise and fall of his breathing made it easier to relax. For once, I let myself close my eyes without resistance.

When we finally arrived, the noise doubled. The gates of the amusement park towered above us, bright banners swaying overhead while music echoed from inside. The scent of popcorn and fried snacks lingered in the air. Gojo was the first to jump out, stretching dramatically as if he had endured something unbearable during the ride. Nanami followed with a sigh, already preparing himself for what would likely be a long day.

Once inside, we scattered almost immediately. Sometimes we moved in pairs, sometimes in trios. Other times, someone wandered off alone only to reappear minutes later with a complaint or a snack in hand. We regrouped in the center of the park more than once, arguing over which ride to try next before inevitably splitting up again. There was no strict plan—just movement, laughter, and impulsive decisions.

I didn’t expect it, but it refreshed me. Being surrounded by people who understood what I saw—who understood curses without questioning my sanity—felt grounding. There was no need to pretend. No need to explain why certain shadows looked wrong or why the air sometimes felt heavier in specific corners. They noticed it too. They just choose to ignore it.

At one point, all of us decided to enter a horror attraction booth. We knew it was staged. We knew the props were fake and the jump scares were rehearsed. Still, the narrow hallways and sudden bursts of noise managed to catch us off guard. The lighting was dim, red bulbs flickering along the walls while artificial fog crept across the floor.

Everything was going smoothly until one of the costumed staff members popped out too close to Shoko. Her reflexes were immediate. Without hesitation, she swung her arm defensively. There was a sharp thud followed by a groan. The poor employee stumbled back, clutching his nose as blood began to trickle down.

The lights flickered brighter for a moment as staff rushed in. Shoko blinked, startled by what she had done. “Oh—sorry,” she said, though she didn’t look particularly guilty. The man waved weakly, insisting he was fine despite the obvious swelling forming around his nose. That bruise was going to stay for a while.

Gojo burst into laughter, Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose in quiet disbelief, Nanami muttered something about liability issues, and Haibara, alongside the other staff, helped the poor man. As for me, I couldn’t stop smiling.

We continued wandering through the park until the sky began to soften into shades of orange and gold. The air cooled, and the bright noise of the afternoon mellowed into something calmer. Haibara and Shoko suddenly insisted on riding the Ferris wheel, claiming the sunset view would be worth it. They were already halfway toward the line before anyone could object.

When we reached the entrance, the staff informed us that only four people were allowed in each pod. Shoko and Haibara immediately claimed their spots, dragging Nanami along before he could protest. It was supposed to be me joining them, but Gojo stepped forward without hesitation and slipped inside at the last second, flashing a grin as the door shut behind him.

That left only Suguru and me standing on the platform.

Thankfully, no other passengers were waiting. The next pod was empty, and we were ushered inside together. The door clicked shut, and the wheel began its slow ascent. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The pod swayed gently as it lifted us higher, the sounds of the park growing distant beneath us.

We started with small talk—nothing too serious. Comments about Haibara’s excitement, Gojo’s inability to resist stealing someone else’s seat, and Nanami’s clear regret about being there. Suguru leaned back slightly, relaxed, watching the view stretch wider with every turn of the wheel.

“Here,” he said after a moment, reaching into a small bag he had been carrying. “You can have these. I won them from those random games earlier.”

He handed me a handful of chocolates, candies, and a few small packs of chips. I stared at them for a second before breaking into a grin.

“I won’t deny it—I love sweets,” I admitted. “I’m surprised Gojo didn’t take any of these.”

Suguru gave a chuckle. “Oh, he already did. These are the ones I managed to hide.”

That made me laugh. I could easily imagine Gojo hovering nearby, claiming his “share” of the prizes.

“Oh—wait,” Suguru added suddenly, patting his pocket as if he had just remembered something. “I have another one. I almost forgot.”

He searched for a moment before pulling out a small candy-shaped ring, the kind wrapped in clear plastic with a bright jewel on top.

My eyes widened immediately. “Oh my God. I haven’t seen this in years. I used to get these all the time when I was a kid,” I said, unable to hide my excitement.

Suguru’s expression softened. “Well, may I have the honors?” he asked, lowering his head slightly in a playful bow as he extended his hand toward me.

I couldn’t help but play along. “Well, of course, dear sir,” I replied in an exaggerated British accent, placing my hand in his.

Carefully, he slid the candy ring onto my finger. The Ferris wheel continued its steady climb, the horizon now glowing behind him.

“Look at that—it fits,” I said, holding up my hand to admire it.

“Hm,” he responded quietly, his gaze lingering for a second longer than necessary. “It does.”

The pod reached its highest point then, pausing briefly at the top. From up there, the entire park looked smaller, the lights beginning to flicker on as the sun dipped lower. For a moment, it felt like the world had slowed just for us.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Previous // Next

[inkredibleworld]

ɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

A crossover fanfic featuring JJK x F!Reader x Bonten Arc (Tokyo Revengers)

Chapter 13

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Look who just came back from the dead,” Baji said loudly, disbelief already turning into that familiar, reckless grin.

Before I could even react, he was on me—an arm slung around my shoulders, hand ruffling my hair like no time had passed at all. The sudden movement tugged my coat loose, fabric slipping just enough to expose my shoulder.

“Oi—Baji—” I started, but it was already too late.

He froze mid-motion, eyes dropping. “Holy shi—” He pulled back slightly, hands gripping my shoulders as he turned me around without asking, inspecting the ink peeking out from beneath my clothes. “You’re tatted up.”

I sighed. “You don’t say.”

“Damn,” he laughed, genuinely impressed. “Nice work.”

I could feel the others’ eyes on me, too. Draken stepped closer, gaze lingering for a second longer than necessary before he nodded once. “Didn’t really expect you to be into tattoos,” he admitted, “but… yeah. It looks good on you.”

“Thanks,” I replied, tugging my coat back into place, suddenly very aware of how close everyone was.

There was a strange tension in the air—not hostile, just… loaded. Too many unspoken years. Too many things that had happened separately, quietly, without each other. I didn’t know where to stand, what version of myself they were seeing now.

Baji, of course, didn’t care about any of that.

“We should catch up,” he said immediately, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He threw an arm around my shoulders again, then glanced back at the others. “Y’know—me, the guys, Y/N.”

Kazutora tilted his head. “All of us?” “Yeah, all of us,” Baji said, then snapped his fingers. “Oh—and we should call Takashi too, right?” He looked at Draken for confirmation. “His flight’s not until five a.m. tomorrow, yeah?”

Draken nodded. “Yeah. That’s right.”

“We can try,” Kazutora added. “If he’s not busy.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, half amused, half overwhelmed. “You guys really don’t waste time, huh?”

Baji grinned wider. “Why would we? You’re here.”

And that—somehow—hit harder than I expected.

“Uhm—” I tried to step out of Baji’s arm, already reaching for a polite excuse, when—

“Ohhh,” a voice chimed brightly from my side. “Are these your friends, sensei?”

I froze.

Nobara had appeared out of nowhere, hands clasped behind her back, eyes sparkling with pure, unfiltered curiosity. I could already tell this was going downhill fast.

“Man,” she continued, scanning them openly, “I always thought you only had, like, two friends. Gojo-sensei and Shoko. But this is actually good—turns out you have tons.”

“Nobara,” I warned lightly.

Too late.

She stepped forward and gave them a quick, confident bow. “Kugisaki Nobara. First-year student.” Then she flashed a grin and added, “Y/N-sensei is the best sensei.”

Oh god, kill me now.

Before I could stop her, she leaned in close to me, hand shielding her mouth as she whispered far too loudly, “Oop—and they’re all males too, huehue.” Her eyes flicked back to the group. “For the record, I’d totally choose the one with the dragon tattoo on his head.”

My soul left my body.

“Stop it,” I hissed, pinching her side hard enough to make a point.

She grimaced but clearly enjoyed every second of it.

Draken blinked once, then let out a short, awkward laugh, scratching the back of his neck. Baji looked like he was about to choke trying not to laugh. Kazutora raised an eyebrow, amused. Chifuyu, bless him, looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.

I opened my mouth to salvage the situation—any situation—when Nobara suddenly gasped dramatically.

“Oh no—wait—Itadori! Fushiguro!” She turned sharply toward the store entrance. “Look at the time! The festival’s about to start!”

“What—already?” Yuji’s voice floated from somewhere between the aisles.

“Yes, already,” Nobara said with finality, already grabbing Megumi by the sleeve. She spun back toward me, waving. “Uh, bye, Y/N-sensei! I’ll see you at school! Enjoy reconnecting with your friends!”

“Wait—Nobara—” I started.

She didn’t listen.

In one swift motion, she physically herded Yuji and Megumi toward the door, pushing them out with alarming efficiency. I heard Yuji’s confused protest as the bell rang again.

“Eh? What about Y/N-sensei?”

Too late.

The door shut behind them, their voices fading down the street, leaving me standing there in the pet shop with four very familiar faces and a silence that felt louder than any curse I’d fought recently.

I exhaled slowly, rubbing my temples. “I am so sorry about that.”

Baji finally burst out laughing. “I like her energy.”

“She’s a menace,” I corrected flatly.

Draken smiled faintly, calm as ever, hands in his pockets. “She reminds me of you. A little.”

I shot him a look. “That’s rude.”

He chuckled, unoffended. “Still the same, huh.”

Yeah, maybe. Just with more scars and a life they knew nothing about.

“Yo, someone contact Takashi,” Baji said, already pulling his phone out like the decision had been made ten minutes ago. “We’ll meet at that shop we used to eat at when we were kids. Around seven p.m.” He glanced around, then nodded to himself. “Yeah. Seven should be good, right?”

No one argued.

Then his eyes slid back to me, sharp and knowing. “And don’t even think about avoiding this one, Y/N,” he added, pointing at me lazily. “It’s been way too long since we’ve seen you. Who knows when we’ll all meet again, yeah?”

The way he said it—half joking, half honest—hit a little deeper than I expected.

I hesitated. Just for a second. Old instincts tugged at me, the ones that said don’t get too close, don’t stay too long. But looking at them—really looking at them—standing there like time hadn’t bulldozed over all of us in different ways… it felt familiar.

“…Alright, fine,” I said at last, rolling my eyes playfully. “You win.”

Baji grinned as he’d just conquered the world.

And that was how I ended up spending my entire afternoon in the pet shop with them. No rush. No awkwardness after the initial shock. Just conversations that flowed easily, laughter slipping in between stories, memories resurfacing like they’d been waiting patiently to be remembered. It felt strangely grounding, like stepping into an old pair of shoes that still fit despite everything.

When evening crept in, we walked together to the shop we used to eat at back when we were kids. The place looked almost the same, with the same warm lights, the same faint smell of oil and spices lingering in the air. We stepped inside and looked around for seats, settling in comfortably as we belonged there.

Mitsuya, thankfully, agreed to eat with us too—but the guys, in their infinite wisdom, hadn’t told him I’d be there. Apparently, it was going to be a “surprise.” Quote-unquote.

While we were flipping through menus, I cleared my throat. “At least let me pay,” I said casually. “This is the least I can do.”

Draken didn’t even look up. “Nonsense. What kind of guy lets a girl pay?”

Chifuyu and Kazutora nodded immediately. “That’s true.”

I sighed. “No, seriously. I insist.”

“Oh, stop it, will you?” Baji waved me off. “I was the one who suggested we eat out, so I’m paying.”

Kazutora shot him a look. “Not with your current allowance, idiot. We’ll split it. Four of us—excluding Y/N.”

Watching them argue over something so small, so stupid, felt… nice. Comforting. Like proof that not everything had changed, that some things had stayed stubbornly the same despite time and distance and different lives.

I smiled softly before cutting in. “Alright. Compromise.” They all looked at me. “Let me pay for the drinks, at least. You can drink to your heart’s content—on me. Deal?”

There was a brief pause.

Then Baji’s face lit up. “Well then—hell yeah. I like the sound of that.”

And just like that, the table filled with easy laughter again, warmth settling in my chest as I realized that for tonight, at least, I wasn’t a sorcerer or a problem to be managed.

The bell above the shop door rang softly, cutting through the low hum of conversation and the clinking of dishes, signaling the arrival of a new customer. I looked up without much thought until the figure at the entrance pulled down his hood and slipped off his mask. Silver-lilac hair caught the warm light of the shop, familiar in a way that made my chest tighten. I didn’t need a second look. I just knew it was him.

The owner greeted Mitsuya with the same fond warmth she always had, and he returned it with a polite, gentle smile—the kind that hadn’t changed at all despite the years. His eyes drifted from table to table as if searching for someone, and then finally, they stopped on us. I could see it clearly on his face: shock, disbelief, a moment where time itself seemed to stall. He froze for half a second before slowly making his way toward our table.

Baji noticed him then and immediately waved with that unmistakable grin of his.

“Yo, Takashi! Over here, guess who’s back, haha!” he called out, far too loudly for a small shop like this.

“No way,” Mitsuya muttered as he stopped beside our table, his eyes fixed on me like he was afraid I’d disappear if he blinked.

I stood up, offering a small, tentative smile.

“It’s nice to see you, too, Takashi. Been a while, huh?” I said lightly.

Before I could even fully straighten myself, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around me. The sudden weight and warmth startled me, and I let out a small breath of surprise—but then I realized it was Mitsuya. He was hugging me, firmly, like he was grounding himself in the fact that I was really there.

“Where have you been?” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought something bad happened to you… especially after what happened to your father and mother.”

I hugged him back without hesitation, patting his back reassuringly.

“I’m all good, no worries,” I said softly.

After a moment, he pulled away, his eyes still searching my face, before finally sitting across from me.

“It’s really nice to see you again, Y/N. Really.”

As the initial shock settled, Mitsuya tilted his head slightly, curiosity creeping into his expression.

“By the way… does Yuki know?” he asked. “I haven’t really talked to her personally these past few years. I mostly just get requests to tailor clothes for her, and even then, someone else usually picks them up on her behalf.”

His question made me pause. My fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the table as I hesitated, debating whether to soften the truth or just say it outright.

“Uh… yeah, we did meet,” I admitted. “But it wasn’t a good encounter. She was pretty pissed.”

Baji let out a low whistle. “Damn. Never thought Yuki would be pissed at you. You guys were inseparable—Takashi was basically the bonus friend,” he said with a chuckle.

Mitsuya blinked, clearly processing that. “Wow… unbelievable,” he murmured, expression blank.

I let out a small sigh. “I mean, I’m not surprised,” I added. “I did leave without saying goodbye. Didn’t even leave a message.”

Draken shrugged from his seat. “True, that was kind of a dick move,” he said bluntly, then softened his tone. “But I’m sure you had a reason.”

Chifuyu nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Take your time. When you’re ready, you can tell us.”

Before the mood could sink too deeply into sentimentality, Baji clapped his hands together. “Alright, enough with the heavy stuff! Let’s eat and drink. Oh—and Takashi, we already ordered for you. Don’t worry, we didn’t forget your favorite. Just enjoy.”

And enjoy we did. Plates were set down one after another, the familiar smell of comfort food filling the air as laughter slowly replaced the earlier tension.

The guys ordered their drinks freely—just as I promised—and soon the table was crowded with glasses, bowls, and half-finished conversations overlapping one another. Food was passed around, and jokes flew effortlessly.

In the end, despite all the arguing earlier, it was still me who paid for everything.

By the time the bill was settled, the table was a complete mess of empty plates and half-finished drinks, and the guys were in various stages of drunken chaos. Mitsuya was the only exception—he looked mostly composed, though a faint tint of pink on his cheeks betrayed how much he’d actually had.

Baji, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. He was sprawled out on the floor near the table, completely unbothered, eyes shut as if he’d decided that the shop was now his personal bedroom. Chifuyu was crouched beside him, gently shaking his shoulder.

“C’mon, Baji-san, we gotta go,” he pleaded, trying to haul him up.

Baji only responded by rolling onto his side with a lazy groan, which earned simultaneous groans of frustration from both Chifuyu and Kazutora.

“Oi, idiot, wake up,” Draken added, his voice loud and rough as he nudged Baji with his foot. “The shop’s almost gonna close.”

Their voices carried faintly behind me as I stood at the counter, handing over the payment.

“I’m really sorry about these idiots,” I said with a small, apologetic laugh, sliding a bit extra across the counter. “Please think of it as thanks for putting up with us.”

The old lady behind the register smiled warmly, waving her hand as if brushing away the idea.

“Nonsense, child. Everything’s all good,” she said kindly. “I actually remember you kids from back then. It makes me happy to see that you all still keep in touch. It’s nice hearing your laughter again—especially that one on the floor. He was always the loudest.”

I laughed softly, glancing back at Baji. “Yeah… I’m really glad I got to meet them again.”

She tilted her head, studying me with gentle curiosity. “Did you go far away, child?”

“Not far away,” I replied after a brief pause, “but… something like that.”

She nodded knowingly. “As long as you children keep in touch, you’ll be fine. That just means you found real friends—the kind who stay by your side.”

Her words settled warmly in my chest.

“Yeah,” I said with a smile. “You’re right. Oh—and please tell your husband I said hi.” If I remembered correctly, he was the one who always cooked back then.

She chuckled. “I will. Thank you, child.”

“No worries. Enjoy the rest of the night,” I said, bowing slightly before heading back to the others.

“Alright, let’s get you up,” I said, grabbing one of Baji’s arms and pulling him to his feet. Chifuyu quickly took the other side, grunting with effort.

Draken, though still clearly drunk himself, managed to help Kazutora stand, one arm slung around his shoulder. Mitsuya stayed a step behind, quietly watching over Draken and Kazutora as they swayed unsteadily.

“Careful, guys,” he said calmly. “Just wait here for a second—I’ll pull the car around.”

He disappeared briefly, and moments later, a car rolled up in front of the shop. Mitsuya opened the doors without hesitation, ushering everyone into the back seat and making sure they were settled before taking the driver’s seat. I slid into the front passenger seat, buckling in as the engine hummed to life.

The drive was quiet, broken only by the sound of uneven breathing and loud snores from the back—Baji’s being the most impressive of them all. Strangely enough, the silence wasn’t awkward. It felt… comfortable.

We dropped the guys off one by one: first Draken, then Kazutora, and finally Baji and Chifuyu. Chifuyu decided to stay over at Baji’s place, knowing there was no way the idiot could be left alone in that state. Eventually, it was just me and Takashi left in the car, the city lights passing by in soft blurs outside the window.

“So,” Mitsuya said after a moment, eyes still focused on the road, “I heard from the others that you’re a teacher now.”

I nodded. “Uh, yeah. Kind of. It’s more like a private school—only a few students, though.”

“That’s good,” he replied simply, a small smile tugging at his lips. I glanced at him, returning the smile.

“How about you? Looks like you finally pursued your dream. A famous fashion designer, huh?”

“Oh, stop it,” he said with a quiet laugh.

“Maybe I’ll start contacting you from now on and buy your clothes,” I teased.

“I said stop it,” he laughed again. “I can just send you some. You’re my friend, after all.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Careful, Takashi. Are you saying you’re giving me free clothes? Because I’ll take that, one hundred percent.”

He glanced at me briefly, amused. “Depends,” he said, smiling.

We talked quietly as the car rolled through familiar streets until the outline of my apartment building finally came into view. The atmosphere settled into a gentle silence—not the heavy, uncomfortable kind, but the sort that felt earned, like neither of us needed to rush to fill it with words. The city lights slid past the windows, reflected faintly on the windshield. “Takashi,” I called softly, my gaze fixed outside.

He hummed in response, a simple sound that told me he was listening.

“I… I’m sorry for leaving you guys,” I said, the words coming slower than before. “I’m sorry for disappearing without saying anything. I really am.” My fingers curled slightly in my lap. “Back then, that felt like the only way. Everything was new to me. It was all of a sudden. It felt like being thrown into battle as a new soldier with only three days to prepare.” I let out a quiet breath. “It was hard. Honestly surprised I’m still here.”

The car slowed a little. Mitsuya finally spoke, his tone calm but attentive. “What do you mean by that?”

For a moment, I almost told him everything. The words were right there, pressing against my chest, begging to spill out. But instead, I turned toward him and smiled, forcing a lighter tone. “Don’t worry about it,” I said with a soft laugh. “It was just a metaphor. I’m being dramatic.”

He didn’t laugh, but he didn’t push either. “You don’t have to explain it today,” Mitsuya said gently as he pulled into a parking spot. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

The car came to a stop, and for a brief second, neither of us moved. I reached for the door, then paused and looked back at him. “Thank you, Takashi. Really.”

“No worries, Y/N,” he replied, just as sincere.

“Well,” I said, opening the door, “this is me. Thanks for the free ride.”

“And thanks for the free meal,” he added, glancing at me with a knowing smile.

I laughed. “I figured you noticed.”

“It was nice seeing you again,” he said. “Until next time.”

“Until next time,” I echoed, giving him a small wave.

He waited until I stepped inside the apartment complex and the doors slid shut behind me. Only then did he start the car and drive off, leaving me standing there with a quiet smile.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Previous // Next

[inkredibleworld]

Hey everyone! Ink here ✨

I just want to apologize for the lack of updates this month. Work has been a bit stressful lately, and by the time I get home (or even when the weekend starts) I’m usually exhausted. Most days I end up catching up on sleep or spending a little time outside to unwind, which is why I haven’t been very active with writing lately.

That said, rest assured I’ll be continuing the story around February. I hope you guys understand 🥹🫶

And don’t worry, I always check my notifications and read your comments. Thank you so much for your patience and support ❤️

[inkredibleworld]

ɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

A crossover fanfic featuring JJK x F!Reader x Bonten Arc (Tokyo Revengers)

Chapter 12

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

I woke up to sunlight cutting through my curtains, warm and blinding, and for a moment I genuinely forgot where I was. My body felt heavy, the good kind of heavy, like I’d finally slept without my nerves coiled tight. I fumbled for my phone and squinted at the screen—2:07 PM. Huh. So this is what a day off feels like. After months of nonstop work, after Rome, after curses, elders, and expectations breathing down my neck, I finally had nothing scheduled. No higher-ups. No, Gojo dropping problems on my lap like they were jokes. No assignments waiting to ambush me. Just… me. I stared at the ceiling for a bit, letting that sink in, a rare luxury.

Then the overthinking started.

What am I supposed to do now?

Buy groceries? My fridge was probably a crime scene. Or clothes—did I even need more clothes? I barely wear anything that wasn’t practical these days. Should I just lie here all day? The bed was warm, the sheets soft, and honestly, I deserved it. But the thought made my chest itch. It felt like wasting the one thing I never had: time. I groaned, covering my face with my arm. “Ugh, fuck it,” I muttered. “I’ll figure it out when I’m outside.”

That decided it.

I dragged myself up, took a long bath, letting the heat melt the tension still clinging to my shoulders. I picked an outfit. Did my makeup without rushing for once. When I finally stepped out, keys in hand, it felt strange. Light. Like I’d slipped out of a role I’d been playing too long.

I took the train to Shibuya instead of driving. Too lazy to deal with parking, and honestly, walking felt right today.

Shibuya was alive. Crowded and Loud.

People laughed, complained, argued, lived—completely unaware of curses lurking just beyond their perception. I slowed my pace, just taking it all in. Families, couples, and friends are killing time together.

What if I didn’t have this talent?  The thought crept in uninvited. What would my life have been like if I’d never seen curses? If I hadn’t been dragged into this world?

I found myself smiling softly at an old memory. Takashi and I, back when we were kids, sprawled on the floor, talking nonsense about the future. He’d be a designer, he said. I’d wear his clothes and model them like some celebrity. We even promised. A childish, innocent promise. I sighed quietly, eyes stinging just a little. Guess that won’t happen in this lifetime. Then, almost jokingly to myself, if there’s another life, please let that one come true.

“Y/N-sensei!”

I blinked and turned. “Huh?” “Oh—Nobara, it’s you.” She grinned. “Are you by yourself?” “Yeah. You?” “Nah, the two idiots are still inside paying. We were eating.” She tilted her head. “What about you?” “Just strolling. Nothing to do.”

Her eyes lit up immediately. “Ohh, then come with us! We’re going to this flower festival thing a couple of blocks from here. Itadori said there are a bunch of rare flowers showing up this year, so we’re checking it out.”

I hesitated for half a second—then shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got nothing else planned.” “Let’s gooo,” she cheered. “I’ll call those two to hurry up—hold on.” And off she went, already yelling.

A few minutes later, they finally came out.

“Yo, Y/N-sensei! How are you?” Yuji greeted brightly. Megumi bowed slightly. “Sensei.” ...

We started walking down the sidewalk together, the city flowing around us. “So,” I asked, “how’ve you guys been? Assignments treating you well?” “Nothing too bad,” Yuji said with a grin, giving a thumbs-up. “Too easy.” “Liar,” Nobara shot back immediately. “You wet yourself on our second mission.” “Hey! Don’t make it sound like that!” Yuji protested. “I didn’t literally wet myself, sensei—I was thrown into the water. Very different.” He glared at Nobara. She just smirked, completely unapologetic.

I laughed as they kept bickering beside me. Walking through Shibuya, surrounded by normalcy and noise, and these three idiots.

For once, I wasn’t a sorcerer under scrutiny.

I was just me, killing time on my day off.

A few minutes passed as we kept walking, the conversation drifting lazily from one pointless topic to another, when Nobara suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. She gasped so loudly it nearly startled me.

“Wait—” she said, grabbing my arm. “Was there a pet shop here all this time?”

I looked up. Sure enough, tucked between two storefronts, was a cozy little pet shop, its windows filled with tiny paws, wagging tails, and pastel signs.

“Uh… yeah?” Yuji replied, blinking. “Pretty sure it’s always been there.”

Nobara turned to me with wide, sparkling eyes. “Sensei, can we check it out for a bit? Pleeease.”

I chuckled. “Go ahead.”

That was all the permission she needed. She practically launched herself inside, the small bell above the door chiming cheerfully as it swung open. A voice followed immediately after.

“Welcome!”

Megumi and Yuji exchanged a glance before shrugging and heading in too. I followed at a slower pace, hands tucked into my coat pockets. The shop was warm and smelled faintly of soap and fur. Soft music played in the background, and cages lined the walls—puppies tumbling over each other, kittens curled into sleepy piles, birds chirping softly.

The teens scattered the moment they entered.

“Oh my god, look at this one!” Nobara squealed somewhere to the left. “Sensei, this one’s staring into my soul,” Yuji called out, crouched in front of a tank. Megumi stood quietly near the reptiles, arms crossed, pretending he wasn’t interested while absolutely being interested.

I smiled to myself, watching them. It was nice—seeing them like this. Just kids.

“Looking for anything in particular, miss?”

The voice came from behind me. Calm. Polite.

I turned around.

And froze—just for half a second.

Familiarity hit me like a delayed punch, sharp and unexpected. Blond hair. Soft eyes. That same expression I hadn’t seen in far too long. Judging by the way his eyes widened ever so slightly, recognition hit him at the same time.

“Y/N?”

I kept myself calm, even though my chest tightened. “It’s been a while, Chifuyu,” I said smoothly. “How have you been?”

Chifuyu Matsuno stared at me, stunned, before letting out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Wow… yeah. It really has been a while.” His gaze flicked over me, like he was making sure I was actually real. “I’m… doing okay. Guess this is my life now.” He gestured vaguely around the shop, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“That so?” I hummed. “Didn’t peg you as the pet shop type.”

He snorted. “Neither did I.” Then, softer, almost cautious, “Didn’t think I’d run into you here. Especially not like this.”

Before either of us could say more—

“Sensei!” Nobara’s voice rang out. “Come look at this one, it’s so ugly it’s cute!”

Chifuyu blinked, eyes shifting past me toward the sound. His brows furrowed slightly. “…Sensei?”

I glanced back at the kids, then returned my gaze to him, lips curving faintly. “Yeah,” I said. “Long story.”

Something unreadable passed through Chifuyu’s eyes as he nodded slowly. “Figures,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry?” I said, blinking once. Chifuyu let out a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “I just—yeah. Never would’ve thought of you as a teacher.”

I let out a small laugh. “Yeah. Me too. Life’s pretty unpredictable.”

“Yeah,” Chifuyu echoed.

“…Yeah,” I added, and for a moment, that was all there was. A thin, awkward pause hung between us, filled with things neither of us knew how to say anymore.

“So,” he spoke again, softer this time, “how are you? It’s been a long time. We… didn’t really get any updates about you.” He hesitated. “We tried asking Yuki once, but she said she didn’t know either.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

He noticed immediately and lifted his hands slightly. “Hey, it’s fine if you don’t explain it now. I’m just—” he laughed awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood, “I’m just glad you didn’t end up dead or something.”

I smiled, a little crooked. “Yeah. Thankfully.”

There was truth in that. Surviving this long in the jujutsu world wasn’t something to take lightly—especially now, when curses were getting stronger and smarter. Just being alive felt like borrowed luck.

“So,” I said, shifting slightly, “is it just you working here?”

“Oh—nah,” Chifuyu replied. “Kazutora and Baji are with me, too. They’re not here right now, though. Had to go grab something. They should be back in a bit.”

“Ah,” I nodded. “I see.”

Silence crept in again.

Welp. This is awkward.

I glanced around the shop, pretending to examine a tank of sleeping hamsters while my thoughts spiraled. What is it with this year? Why now? Why did the people I’d buried and forced myself to move on from keep resurfacing? First Mikey. Then Yuki. Now Chifuyu. And possibly Kazutora and Baji next.

What’s next? I thought bitterly. Draken showing up?

The bell above the door suddenly rang.

“Yow, Chifuyu!” a familiar voice called out casually. “Wanna drink late—”

I froze.

The voice cut off mid-sentence.

Every instinct in my body screamed do not turn around. Unfortunately, it was too late.

I did.

And froze.

Standing in the doorway was Ryuguji Ken—Draken—towering as ever, his presence filling the room effortlessly. Beside him was Baji, with wild hair slightly messier than usual, eyes sharp and immediately locked onto me. Behind them lingered Kazutora, hands in his pockets, gaze flicking up—

—and then all three of them went still.

Dead quiet.

“No fucking way,” Draken muttered.

Baji Keisuke stood there, eyes wide, disbelief written all over his face. Kazutora froze just as hard.

“…Y/N?” Kazutora breathed.

I closed my eyes for half a second. You have got to be kidding me.

When I opened them again, Baji was already laughing, loud and disbelieving. “Nah, nah, nah—this has to be a joke. Ain’t no way.” He pointed at me. “You’re supposed to be—like—gone.”

“Wow,” I deadpanned. “Great to see you too, Baji.”

Ken stepped fully inside now, eyes scanning me like he was making sure I wasn’t some hallucination. “Holy shit… you’re alive.”

“Last time I checked,” I replied dryly.

From the other side of the shop, Yuji’s voice echoed, cheerful and oblivious. “Sensei! This puppy keeps biting my finger, and the other one just fell asleep on my shoe!”

I sighed.

Baji and Ken's heads snapped in that direction. “Sensei?”

Kazutora blinked. “As in—teacher sensei?”

I rubbed my temple. “It’s a long story, guys.”

Baji grinned wildly. “Oh, this just got real interesting.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Previous // Next

[inkredibleworld]

ɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

A crossover fanfic featuring JJK x F!Reader x Bonten Arc (Tokyo Revengers)

Chapter 11

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Gojo just stood there, hands in his pockets, casually watching the Bonten men like he was observing animals at a zoo. So these are the guys who’ve been keeping tabs on Y/N, he thought. Huh. Not much of a threat. At least—not to him. From what he’d skimmed on the news and intel reports, they were dangerous in the very human sense. Guns, money, fear. All things Gojo had stopped taking seriously a long time ago.

“Huh?” Sanzu slurred, irritation bleeding into his voice as he pointed the gun again, clearly still riding whatever drugs he’d taken earlier. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”

Gojo turned his head slightly, smiling lazily, almost politely. “Gojo Satoru,” he said lightly. “And I wouldn’t put so much effort into pointing that at me. You still can’t kill me with—”

The gunshot cracked through the night.

Sanzu laughed immediately—sharp, manic, triumphant. “HAHA—see? All bullshit!”

But the laughter died in his throat.

Around him, the other men had gone quiet. Murmurs crept in, low and confused.

“…What the fuck?”

“…Did it stop?”

“…How did he—?”

Sanzu frowned, eyes flicking back.

Gojo was still standing exactly where he’d been.

The bullet hovered in midair, inches from his face, frozen like time itself had decided to hesitate. Gojo glanced at it, unimpressed, then sighed.

“…finish my sentence,” he said mildly.

The bullet dropped to the ground with a dull clink.

The street felt colder after that.

Mikey, who had been watching the entire time, finally stepped forward. His gaze never left Gojo—not the bullet, not the gun, not the stunned reactions of his men.

“Enough,” Mikey said calmly.

Sanzu stiffened but didn’t argue.

“I’m Sano Manjiro,” Mikey continued, voice steady. “Head of Bonten. I apologize for my first lieutenant’s behavior.” His eyes flicked briefly to Sanzu before returning to Gojo. “You’re right. We should be thanking your students.” He glanced toward Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi. “For helping us.”

Gojo tilted his head, smile faint but unreadable.

Mikey went on, tone shifting—less apology, more curiosity. “What I want to know is this—was this intentional?” He gestured vaguely toward the blood-soaked street. “Does this kind of thing… usually happen?”

Gojo studied him for a moment, then shrugged. “Long story short? Curses aren’t usually seen by regular civilians.” He glanced at the men, still shaken, some clutching empty magazines, others staring at the stains on the road. “Judging by your reactions, this was your first time.”

Mikey didn’t deny it.

“On average,” Gojo continued, “maybe one out of ten civilians can see a curse under extreme conditions.” His smile thinned just slightly. “So yeah. I’d say this was intentional.”

That landed harder than the gunshot.

Mikey’s eyes darkened, mind already racing—connections, enemies, possibilities. Someone tagged us.

Gojo turned away, already waving his hand lazily over his shoulder. “Alright, kids. Clean-up’s almost here. Let’s go.”

The three students started walking.

“Wait.”

Mikey’s voice stopped them.

Gojo paused but didn’t turn around. “Mm?”

“If this was intentional,” Mikey said slowly, “then there’s a chance it’ll happen again.” He met Gojo’s back with an unblinking stare. “Stronger ones. More of them.” A beat. “I want data. Information on curse behavior. What to expect. Who to contact?”

Gojo finally turned.

The smile was still there—but colder now. Sharper.

“No.”

The word was immediate. Final.

Mikey didn’t flinch. “I’m willing to—”

“I don’t help criminals,” Gojo interrupted pleasantly. “Especially wanted ones.” His tone was light, almost teasing, but the pressure behind it was unmistakable. “I already have enough problems with the higher-ups. I’m not adding Bonten to my to-do list.”

He adjusted his blindfold slightly. “If curses keep showing up around you?” He shrugged. “That’s your problem.”

Nobara glanced back.

Yuji scratched his head awkwardly. 

Megumi said nothing—just cast Mikey one last, assessing look before turning away.

Gojo stepped after them, voice floating back over his shoulder. “Oh—and one more thing.”

Mikey looked up.

“If you really want answers?” Gojo smiled wider. “Try not bathing your entire organization in blood and resentment. Curses love places like that.”

Then he walked off with his students, leaving behind a shattered street, shaken men—and a crime syndicate that had just learned the world was far bigger, and far crueler, than they ever imagined.

—

Rome, Italy

“Ugh— I’m never drinking alcohol again,” I groaned, voice muffled as I shifted in the bed. My head felt like it had been run over by a bulldozer… twice. The room was still dim with early morning light filtering through sheer curtains, painting everything in a soft gold haze. The sheets beneath me were unreal—soft, cool, like sleeping on a cloud. For a brief, blissful second, I considered canceling life altogether and just sinking back into them forever.

A low groan sounded to my right.

I blinked, turning my head slightly—and there he was.

Shit.

Lazarro. One of the Italian sorcerers. The same one who’d welcomed me, briefed me, drank with me, and—well—clearly stayed the night. Don’t get me wrong, the man was unfairly attractive. Tall, broad shoulders, like God personally took His time sculpting him. Blond curls messy against the pillow, sharp jaw softened by sleep, the kind of face that looked just as good exhausted as it did alert. My brain, despite the hangover, traitorously noted all of that.

“Morning,” he said, his thick Italian accent breaking straight through my thoughts like a warm knife through butter.

I stared at him for half a second too long before replying, “Morning,” my voice still rough as I pushed myself up slowly. Every movement reminded me that yes, alcohol was indeed my enemy. I reached for my clothes—torn, wrinkled, and absolutely not suitable for reporting back to the higher-ups—and clicked my tongue in mild annoyance. “Hey… can I take one?” I asked, nodding toward his cabinet.

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead,” he replied easily.

“Thanks.” I padded over, grabbing a shirt and pulling it on. Behind me, I could feel his eyes on my back. He was still in bed, one arm thrown over his face, adjusting, watching me get ready like he was committing the scene to memory. It was quiet for a moment—comfortable, not awkward.

“So,” he said eventually, voice calmer now, “you’re going back to Japan since the mission’s already over?”

“Yeah,” I answered, tying my hair back. “And I have to report everything to my superiors.” I didn’t bother hiding the annoyance in my tone.

“Will I see you again?”

That made me pause. Just for a second. I glanced at him over my shoulder, then turned back to finish getting dressed. “We’ll see,” I said lightly, neither promising nor denying.

He hummed, amused. “I haven’t really introduced myself properly, have I?” He sat up slightly. “Lazarro Armati.”

I turned to face him this time. “Hirano Y/N.”

He smiled. “Well, I can definitely say it was nice meeting you.” His eyes dragged shamelessly from my head to my feet. “And seeing you. Literally.”

I snorted, laughing despite myself. “Fuck off.”

He laughed too, warm and easy, the sound filling the room as sunlight crept in a little brighter—an ending to the night that felt dangerously tempting to remember fondly.

“Wait—hold on, let me get ready,” Lazarro said suddenly as I reached for the door. “Oh, there’s no n—” “No,” he cut in immediately, already standing, determination written all over his face. “I insist. Just wait for me.”

I didn’t argue. Somehow, that felt like the theme of our very short acquaintance—things just happening, naturally, without resistance.

By the time we were in his car, Rome was already awake. Morning traffic hummed around us, scooters weaving between lanes, sunlight glinting off ancient stone buildings like nothing catastrophic had happened just hours ago. Lazarro drove with one hand on the wheel, relaxed, the other tapping lightly to some Italian song playing low on the radio. We talked about nothing important and everything at the same time. Food, places I should visit if I ever came back, how absurdly bureaucratic sorcerer organizations were, no matter the country. It didn’t feel awkward at all, which was strange considering we’d only properly met yesterday. Maybe it was the shared adrenaline, or maybe it was just one of those rare moments where silence didn’t feel heavy, and words didn’t feel forced.

Eventually, the airport came into view.

He pulled over, turned to me, and smiled. “Thanks for… well, everything,” I said, opening the door. “No problem,” he replied easily. “You have my number, right?” “Yeah.” “Good. Just text me if you’re back in Italy. I’ll give you a proper tour this time,” he added with a laugh. “I’ll hold you to that.” “Alright. Bye, Y/N. It was nice meeting you.” “You too, Lazarro.”

And just like that, Rome was behind me.

Hours later, Japan welcomed me back with the familiar, suffocating weight of responsibility. As soon as I stepped out of arrivals, I spotted Ijichi waiting with his usual tense posture and clipboard clutched like a lifeline.

“Good day, Y/N-san,” he greeted quickly. “I will immediately transport you to the office. They are actually waiting for you right now.”

Of course they were.

The ride was quiet. Tokyo passed by in a blur of steel and neon, and with every kilometer closer to headquarters, the air felt heavier. By the time I stepped into the familiar halls, the exhaustion from travel hadn’t even had time to settle before duty came knocking.

The doors to the meeting room slid open with their usual ominous creak.

Screens. Shadows. Silence.

I stood straight, heels clicking once before stopping. They didn’t waste time.

“Report,” one of the elders demanded.

I explained everything with measured calm—how the curse manifested near the basilica, its classification, its behavior patterns, how the Italian sorcerers were overwhelmed almost immediately. I detailed the battle step by step, the countermeasures, the cursed energy output, and the finishing blow. I made it clear, deliberately so, that I alone exorcised the curse. No assistance. No complications. A clean mission.

I omitted one thing.

No mention of Suguru Geto. 

Behind the screens, the silence shifted. Satisfaction, barely hidden, crept into their voices.

“So the threat has been neutralized completely.” “Yes,” I replied firmly. “And there were no further complications?” “No.”

A pause. Then—approval.

“You have done well,” an elder said. “This reflects positively on Jujutsu High.”

I kept my face neutral, even as irritation curled quietly in my chest. Of course it does. My success tasted like pride to them—pride they could claim without ever stepping into danger themselves.

“You are dismissed.”

I turned, heels echoing against the floor as I left the room, expression composed, mind already elsewhere. Rome felt far away now. The curse was gone.

The mission was complete.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Previous // Next

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

[inkredibleworld]

ɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

A crossover fanfic featuring JJK x F!Reader x Bonten Arc (Tokyo Revengers)

Chapter 10

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The moment the curse lifted its massive claw, instinct kicked in.

“EVERYONE DOW—!” Kakucho shouted, voice ripping through the chaos.

But it was already too late.

The claw came down like a guillotine.

Steel screamed as the asphalt split apart. Two men didn’t even have time to scream—one second they were standing, rifles raised, the next they were torn clean through, bodies bisected at the waist. Blood sprayed across the headlights, painting the road in violent red streaks.

“FUCK—!!”

“GET BACK—GET BACK—!!”

Men scrambled, some diving behind the SUVs, others throwing themselves flat onto the pavement just in time to avoid being shredded. The unlucky ones weren’t fast enough—arms torn off, torsos crushed, screams cut short as the curse rampaged without hesitation or mercy.

“SHIT—SHIT—SHIT—!!”

Gunfire exploded again, louder, more frantic this time. Bullets tore into the curse’s flesh, ripping chunks out of its massive body. It staggered—but didn’t fall. Black, tar-like blood splattered the road, sizzling where it hit the asphalt.

“Why the fuck won’t it go down?!” someone screamed.

Inside the first SUV, Mikey had stepped out now, eyes locked onto the carnage. His expression didn’t change—but something dark settled in his gaze.

This was slaughter.

The curse roared, a sound that vibrated through bone and teeth. It slammed one arm sideways, sending a man flying into the side of an SUV hard enough to cave the door in. The man crumpled, unmoving.

“KEEP FIRING—DON’T STOP FIRING!” Kakucho barked, dragging one wounded man behind cover.

The third SUV’s men unloaded everything they had—assault rifles, pistols, even shotguns—muzzle flashes lighting up the road like a war zone—the air filled with smoke, gunpowder, and the metallic stench of blood.

But the curse kept moving.

It lurched forward, every step cracking the pavement beneath it, massive nails scraping against concrete as it swiped again—catching another man mid-run and ripping him in half like paper.

“No—NO—!!”

“Jesus Christ—WHAT IS THAT THING?!”

Near the back line, Mochi slammed a fresh magazine into his gun with shaking hands, firing again before shouting, “Fuck—there’s no end to this! I’m almost out of ammo!”

“Same here!” Takeomi yelled back, firing in short, controlled bursts now, conserving what little he had left. “This thing doesn’t bleed like anything I’ve seen!”

Sanzu laughed—high, sharp, unhinged—even as bullets whizzed past him. “This is fucked up,” he said, eyes wide with manic delight. “This is really fucked up.”

Kokonoi wasn’t laughing.

His mind raced, calculating losses, logistics, replacement costs—and realizing, with a sick drop in his gut, that money meant nothing here.

You couldn’t bribe this thing.

You couldn’t threaten it.

You couldn’t reason with it.

Kakucho wiped blood from his face, breathing hard as he stared at the curse towering over them.

“…What the fuck are you?” he muttered.

Another claw slammed down, crushing a fallen rifle beneath it like it was nothing. The curse turned slowly toward the nearest cluster of men, mouth stretching wider, nails digging into the ground—

And for the first time since Bonten was formed, the men felt it.

Real fear.

Not the kind that comes from cops or rivals.

This was something else.

Something that didn’t belong in their world.

And as the curse raised its arm again— ammo nearly gone, men screaming, blood pooling across the road—

A sharp whistle cut through the chaos.

“Yo,” a voice called out, way too casual for a massacre. “That thing looks kinda ugly, don’t you think?”

Everyone froze.

From above, something massive slammed into the street between the curse and the remaining Bonten men.

The asphalt cracked outward in a spiderweb pattern.

A hulking shikigami rose from the impact—jet-black fur, glowing eyes, fangs bared in a silent snarl.

Divine Dog: Totality.

The curse barely had time to react before the shikigami lunged, jaws clamping down on its arm with a bone-crushing snap. Black blood sprayed as the creature screeched, staggering backward for the first time since the fight began.

“What the—?!” one of the Bonten men shouted.

From the shadows above, Megumi landed lightly on the ground. He took in the scene with sharp, calculating eyes.

“Move back,” he ordered calmly. “You’re in the way.”

Before anyone could respond—

A blur of motion shot past them.

Itadori vaulted over an overturned SUV, cursed energy flaring around his fists as he slammed straight into the curse’s torso. The impact sounded like a cannon going off. The creature was launched backward, crashing through a concrete divider and skidding across the road.

Bonten’s men stared.

That punch alone had done more damage than all their gunfire combined.

“Holy shit…” Mochi muttered. “Did you see that?”

Before the curse could recover, a sharp clang echoed.

A nail—glowing with cursed energy—pierced straight through one of the curse’s legs, pinning it to the ground.

Nobara stood a few meters away, hammer resting casually on her shoulder, a vicious grin on her face.

“Rude,” she said. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to interrupt other people’s sleep?”

She yanked the string attached to the nail and slammed her hammer down.

Resonance.

The curse shrieked as its entire body convulsed, black veins lighting up with cursed backlash. It thrashed violently, smashing its claw into the pavement—but Megumi was already moving.

“Max Elephant.”

A massive shadow surged upward—and a torrent of water slammed down on the curse like a collapsing dam, crushing it into the ground and washing blood and debris across the road.

The curse roared, weakened now, movements sloppy and desperate.

Yuji cracked his knuckles, grinning. “Okay. My turn again.”

He sprinted forward, weaving effortlessly between the curse’s wild swings, every step precise. He leapt, twisted midair, and brought his heel down on its skull with explosive force.

The head caved in.

The curse collapsed with a final, gurgling screech—its body dissolving into black smoke that evaporated into the night air.

Silence fell.

Heavy. Unreal.

The only sounds left were the crackle of damaged engines and the ragged breathing of men who had just survived something they didn’t understand.

Nobara wiped imaginary dust off her jacket. “Wow. That was easier than the assignment made it sound.”

Megumi dispelled his shikigami, eyes scanning the area to confirm no residual cursed energy remained. “Low-grade. Just big.”

Yuji turned toward the line of stunned Bonten men and waved cheerfully. “Hey! You guys okay?”

No one answered.

They just stared.

These kids—kids—had dismantled the monster that slaughtered seasoned killers like it was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Sanzu’s grin twitched, amusement mixing with something new. “…So this is what she was talking about.”

Kokonoi’s jaw tightened. “Bullets did nothing,” he muttered. “And they—” He stopped, watching Yuji laugh as Nobara smacked him upside the head. “—they killed it in seconds.”

Mikey said nothing.

He stood perfectly still, eyes fixed on the three sorcerers, the streetlights casting long shadows behind them. For the first time since Y/N’s warning, something clicked into place.

This was a different world overlapping theirs.

Nobara looked directly at Mikey and the others, gaze sharp and unafraid. “All of you saw that, that’s a first. Usually, it’s just one or two people. ”

Mikey didn’t answer.

Yuji blinked. “Didn’t Gojo-sensei say that some curses deliberately reveal themselves, to enjoy terror and stuff like that?”

Nobara sighed. “Great. Civilians mixed up with curses again.” She turned to Megumi. “So what now?”

Megumi glanced at the carnage—at the blood, the bodies, the men who were still shaking.

“…We report this,” he said. “Let me just call Ijichi-san to clear this all up before sunrise.”

Yuji nodded. “Yeah.”

The three of them turned to leave—already moving on, already done.

Behind them, Bonten stood frozen in the aftermath.

And for the first time, every single man there understood one thing with terrifying clarity.

Y/N hadn’t been bluffing.

…

“Hold on. I want answers.”

Mikey’s voice cut through the street—calm, even-toned, but unmistakably final. It wasn’t a question. It was a command.

The three students stopped mid-step.

The curse’s residue was still dissolving into the night air, black mist curling faintly above the bloodstained asphalt. Yuji glanced back first, brows knitting together in confusion. Nobara followed, annoyance already written all over her face. Megumi turned last—slow, guarded.

“That thing,” Mikey continued, eyes never leaving them, “that killed my men. That was a curse. Just like Y/N said.”

The atmosphere shifted immediately.

Megumi’s shoulders tensed. His hand twitched closer to where his shadows pooled faintly at his feet. Yuji straightened, smile gone. Nobara’s grip tightened around her hammer.

Megumi’s eyes sharpened. “How do you know Y/N-sensei?”

The question wasn’t hostile—but it wasn’t friendly either.

Mikey noticed the change instantly. The way their stances subtly adjusted. The way their gazes hardened. He lifted both hands slowly, palms open in a loose, almost lazy surrender. A faint smile tugged at his lips—not mocking, just… familiar.

“Relax,” he said. “We go way back. We were friends.” A pause. “No need to worry.”

The three didn’t lower their guard.

They just looked at him.

Nobara leaned slightly toward Yuji and muttered under her breath, “Do you believe him?”

Yuji whispered back, “I mean… he doesn’t look like a liar?”

Megumi exhaled quietly, then spoke in a professional and closed-off manner. “I’m sorry. We can’t disclose information to civilians.” His eyes flicked briefly to the bodies, then back to Mikey. “The clean-up team will be here any minute. Condolences to your subordinates.”

With that, he turned, already beginning to walk away.

That’s when Sanzu laughed.

“Now hold on, kids,” he drawled, voice sharp and dripping with amusement. “What’s the hurry, huh?”

Megumi stopped again.

Sanzu stepped forward, grin stretching wide, eyes glittering under the streetlights. “My boss here is still asking a question.” His tone darkened. “And I don’t like it when people turn their backs on him.”

He tilted his head, mockingly thoughtful. “Didn’t your Y/N-sensei teach you manners? Respecting elders and all that, hm?” His grin widened. “I should tell her that next time we meet.”

Nobara’s eye twitched.

“The fuck is this pinky idiot saying?” she muttered, not bothering to lower her voice. “Oi, shouldn’t you be thankful instead? We literally just saved your asses.” She gestured around at the carnage. “And I don’t remember hearing a single thank you from any of you.”

Sanzu barked out a laugh. “Look at this brat talking back—haha!”

His hand slipped to his gun.

Rindou immediately stepped in behind him, grabbing his shoulder. “Oi, that’s enough. You’re high as shit, man.”

Sanzu shoved him off hard. “Piss off.”

The gun came up.

Before anyone could move—before Megumi could summon, before Yuji could lunge, before Nobara could throw—

A voice cut through the tension like a blade wrapped in silk.

“I would really appreciate it if you didn’t shoot my students.”

The tone was light. Almost amused.

But it carried weight. Heavy. Overwhelming.

“Especially,” the voice continued pleasantly, “when they just saved your lives. Don’t you think?”

A tall figure stepped forward from the shadows at the edge of the street.

White hair caught the streetlights as if it belonged there. A black blindfold hid his eyes, but the grin on his face was unmistakable, confident, and just a little condescending.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Previous // Next

[inkredibleworld]

ɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

A crossover fanfic featuring JJK x F!Reader x Bonten Arc (Tokyo Revengers)

Chapter 09

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

My phone started ringing, as if it had a personal grudge against me. I groaned loudly, rolling onto my stomach. The room was dim—early morning dim. That miserable, bluish light that said congratulations, it’s way too early for this crap.

I rubbed my face and forced myself upright. “Who the hell is calling me at—” I glanced at the window, “—whatever ungodly hour this is?”

The phone kept vibrating. Persistent. Annoying.

I reached over to my nightstand and squinted at the caller ID.

Ijichi.

“Of course,” I muttered, answering with the enthusiasm of a dying plant. “...Yeah?”

“G-Good morning, Y/N-san,” he said immediately, sounding like he was bowing through the phone. “I’m terribly sorry to wake you—”

“Then you shouldn’t have,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

He sputtered. “W-Well… I apologize, but this is important. The higher-ups have requested your presence. Immediately. As per Principal Yaga’s orders.”

I let out a deep sigh as I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Fuck. Now?”

I could almost hear him flinch. “Y-Yes. They said it cannot be delayed.”

Great. As if I didn’t have Bonten breathing down my neck these past few months. I’d been so wrapped up dealing with that mess, I actually forgot about my other problem—the ever-so-lovely higher-ups of Jujutsu Society. The same group that had been watching me like vultures because I used to be close to Geto Suguru.

And honestly? I mean, yeah. When you’re students, and there’s only four of you in a year, of course you’re gonna be close. It wasn’t rocket science.

But that didn’t mean I kept talking to him after… everything. I stayed. He left. End of story.

I exhaled. “Alright, Ijichi. Thanks for telling me.”

“I’ll—um—be there in a few minutes to pick you up.”

“It’d be better if you took your time,” I said jokingly to him

I hung up and dragged myself out of bed. Shower first. I needed something hot enough to wake up my soul. After that, I did my makeup, nothing too much, just enough to look alive, and pulled together an outfit that looked presentable enough for people I didn’t respect.

Before leaving, I checked myself in the mirror one last time. Hair okay. Face okay. Clothes straight. Still tired, but that was permanent.

I grabbed my phone and stepped outside. Ijichi was already there, standing stiffly beside the car like he’d been waiting for an inspection.

We didn’t waste time. I got in the car, he followed, and we started driving toward the higher-ups.

Another morning, another bullshit meeting.

For almost an hour on the road, we finally made it. I stretched a little as I stepped out of the car, though the exhaustion in my bones didn’t go anywhere. I thanked Ijichi—mostly so he’d stop looking like a kicked puppy—and headed inside.

The moment I stepped through the entrance, the air shifted. Heavy and suffocating. Like walking straight into humidity made of judgment.

I let out a long sigh. “Oh boy,” I muttered under my breath. “Here we go.”

A fellow sorcerer—someone from admin, I guessed—bowed and motioned for me to follow. In which I did, my heels clicking rhythmically against the polished floor. The sound echoed through the hall, far too loud for this early in the morning.

When we stopped in front of the infamous sliding doors, I could already hear muffled talking inside. Probably old men complaining about their backs or something irrelevant. Typical.

The doors opened with a slow, dramatic creak, like they’d practiced it for intimidation points. The conversation inside immediately died down.

Great. All eyes—well, silhouettes—on me.

I walked in without hesitating, heels clacking against the wooden floor. The room was so silent, I swear you could hear the dust settling. The higher-ups sat behind their screens, faceless but full of judgment.

I bowed just enough to be polite, not enough to be submissive.

They didn’t waste a single second.

“Y/N.” “State your current location of residence.” “What missions have you completed in the past month?” “Why were you off-campus so frequently?” “There have been… concerning reports about your associations.”

I kept my face neutral, hands folded neatly in front of me.

“Yes. I’m flattered you track my every move,” I answered calmly. “Must be exhausting for you all.”

A few of them shifted behind their screens, not appreciating the sarcasm but unable to call me out without looking petty.

One spoke harsher than the rest. “Do not test our patience.”

“I would never,” I said, tone polite. “I simply assumed you already had the answers to the questions you’re asking. You usually do.”

“Then you can confirm them.”

“Gladly,” I said with a smile that wasn’t a smile.

They continued.

“You took independent leave multiple times without a thorough explanation.”

“I was working. Shocking, I know.”

“You were seen near certain unsanctioned locations.”

“I have a life outside sorcery.” A pause. “Or at least I pretend to.”

Another hiss of disapproval.

“You are being disrespectful.”

“No,” I corrected politely. “I’m being honest. If you want respectful, maybe save interrogations for after breakfast.”

A small crack of annoyance cut through the stoic atmosphere. Good. Let them feel something for once.

And then the question dropped like a stone.

“Y/N,” the central elder said, voice colder, sharper. “Are you still in contact with Geto Suguru?”

The room froze. Even the dust stopped moving.

My jaw tightened—not out of guilt, but irritation. I lifted my chin slightly, voice firm, steady, unwavering.

“No,” I answered. “I have not been in contact with Suguru since the incident.”

“Are you certain?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, blinking slowly. “Did you not hear me the first time, or was my answer too short for your liking?”

Silence.

“I’ll repeat it, then,” I said clearly. “No. I am not in contact with Geto Suguru. Not directly. Not indirectly. Not secretly. Not at all.”

They muttered among themselves, the screens flickering with movement.

One tried again, pushing. “You were close to him.”

I felt my eye twitch. “We were classmates. Four students in the entire year. Proximity creates bonds—that’s basic social behavior.”

“And yet you did not follow him,” another said.

“And yet he didn’t try to take me,” I countered. “Maybe that tells you something.”

The room went silent again, colder this time.

“Y/N… we are simply ensuring that your loyalties remain aligned.”

I smiled thinly, almost sweet but definitely not. “If my loyalties were anywhere else, you wouldn’t need to ask. You’d already be dead.”

Another ripple of murmurs behind the screens.

I clasped my hands behind my back, standing tall despite the fatigue. “If there are no further baseless accusations,” I said politely, “I’d like to get back to real work.”

The room simmered with quiet irritation— which was exactly the reaction I expected.

“Wait—Hirano.”

My last name cracked through the room like a whip. I stopped mid-turn, jaw tensing. One of the elders shifted behind his screen, the rustle of clothing exaggerated in the silence.

“You are to fly out to Rome immediately after this meeting.”

Rome?

“There has been a sighting of a particularly strong curse,” he continued, voice slow, authoritative. “One capable of killing multiple low-level sorcerers.”

My brows furrowed slightly. That wasn’t common. For them to call me in this early?

The elder went on, “We suspect it may have possessed or absorbed one of Sukuna’s fingers.”

Across the room, someone behind another screen clicked their tongue, as if annoyed by the inconvenience of it all. Another elder leaned forward, voice gravelly with self-importance.

“This mission requires precision. Do not fail us.”

There it is.The classic line.

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted a hint of metal. Every fiber of me wanted to say something back—something sharp enough to shave years off their lives.

Something like: You’re sending one sorcerer to deal with a curse that eats other sorcerers?And you’re worried about me failing? Maybe worry about your planning skills instead.

But I didn’t say any of that.

I inhaled slowly. Exhaled slower.

“Understood,” I replied, voice flat but controlled.

They didn’t need to know how badly I wanted to roll my eyes into another dimension.

One elder cleared his throat, the sound echoing. “You will depart in two hours. A handler will meet you at the airport with documentation.”

Another added, “We expect a full report. No omissions.”

I resisted the urge to smile. “If you want a diary entry, buy a notebook,” I said internally.

I simply bowed again. “I’ll take care of it.”

A pause. A long one. One of them spoke, quieter, but no softer.

“We trust you, Hirano.”

The lie hung in the air like incense—thick, fake, suffocating.

I nodded once. “Permission to leave?”

“Yes,” the central elder said. “You are dismissed.”

I turned, heels tapping against the silence. The doors slid open with another long creak. Outside, the sorcerer who escorted me earlier stood waiting, probably having heard every tense second through the thin walls.

He glanced at me. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” I muttered. “Just got voluntold to fly across the world before breakfast.”

His eyes widened. “Where was it? Rome?”

“Yep.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Apparently, it’s snacking on sorcerers,” I said, deadpan. “So… yeah.”

He winced. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. If I die, you can have my plants.”

He blinked. “…You don’t own plants.”

“Exactly.” —

Down the hallway, I saw Ijichi standing and waiting.

He deflated in relief. “Should I drive you home?”

“Yeah,” I said, stretching my neck. “Then I have two hours to get ready. Apparently, I’m off to Rome.”

Ijichi nodded quickly and gestured toward the exit. “I’ll prepare the car.”

We walked side by side down the hallway. The tension slowly unwound from my shoulders, replaced with the steady thrum of annoyance.

Why should I do it? Gojo has the power and is far more suited to this kind of mission.

As we exited the building, the cool morning air brushed against my skin, clearing the last remnants of fatigue.

I took a deep breath.

Another mission. Another mess. Ijichi opened the car door for me.

“Ready Y/N-san?” he asked carefully.

“Not even a little,” I said, getting in. “Drive anyway.”

And with that, we pulled away—toward home, toward packing, and toward a curse waiting for me on the other side of the world.

Bonten — Japan

The city of Tokyo glowed like a constellation below them—neon blues, burning reds, the endless stretch of headlights bleeding into one another. From the highest floor of Bonten’s private tower, the world looked quiet.

A lie.

Inside the penthouse suite, the atmosphere was anything but calm.

Ran tossed the remote onto the glass table, jaw ticking. “Reports are flooding in,” he muttered, scrolling through his phone again. “The Serpent Fangs got wiped out last night. The whole territory is drenched in blood. Not a single survivor.”

Rindou leaned forward from the couch, brows knitting. “No witnesses? Nothing?”

“Nothing.” Ran shook his head. “Their boss was practically skinned. Clean.”

Mochi scoffed from the corner, lighting a cigarette. “That sounds personal. Torture-level if I say so myself.”

Kokonoi looked up from his laptop, glasses reflecting the city lights behind him. “It’s not only them,” he said, voice calm despite the tension rising in the room. “Monarch from Hokkaido was hit too. One night apart.”

Silence. Heavy. Thick.

Kakucho crossed his arms, turning away from the window. “So two high-ranking gangs get massacred less than forty-eight hours apart. That’s not a coincidence.”

“It’s definitely not street-level trash,” Sanzu added, leaning back in his chair with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

Rindou clicked his tongue. “Could be betrayal. Coup. Internal collapse.”

“Or someone’s hunting us,” Ran said it bluntly, voice low.

Everyone paused. Not out of fear—Bonten didn’t fear. But because the idea wasn’t stupid.

Kokonoi closed his laptop with a soft click. “It couldn’t be the police. They’re still under our command. And normal gangs don’t pull shit like this… so clean.”

Mochi exhaled smoke toward the ceiling. “Whoever did this is either more insane than Sanzu or insanely skilled.”

Sanzu snorted.

For a moment, only the hum of Tokyo below filled the silence.

Then Kakucho spoke again, arms still folded, eyes sharp. “Y/N said something about this, didn’t she?”

The room stiffened, not with tension, but annoyance. Sanzu rolled his eyes dramatically. “Here we go again.”

Ran sighed. “She said it wasn’t human.”

Rindou grimaced. “Tch. That curses shit nonsense again.”

Kokonoi rubbed his temples. “Look—we all know she’s useful. Deadly, even. But that supernatural shit? No way. Not until I see something I can actually calculate.”

Mochi flicked ash into the tray. “Gangs kill gangs. That’s the rule. Someone’s making moves on the ladder.”

Kakucho didn’t move from his spot by the window. “Then explain why two of the top-tier syndicates—armed, fortified, with hundreds of men—got torn apart like animals.”

No one answered.

Instead, Sanzu laughed quietly, tapping his fingers on the armrest. “Simple. Someone stronger. Someone who doesn’t give a damn about consequences.”

Ran narrowed his eyes. “And if they’re hunting down high-ranking groups… there’s a possibility we could be next on the list.”

That finally made the room shift.

Takeomi’s posture straightened. Mochi’s fingers froze mid-tap. Even Kokonoi’s expression hardened a notch.

But none of them said it out loud.

Kakucho finally turned fully toward them. “Whatever this is, curse or not, someone wants power. Territory. Control.”

Ran leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “We need to prepare. Strengthen surveillance. Double guards. No one walks alone at night.”

Rindou scoffed. “We sound paranoid.”

“We’re alive because of our paranoia,” Kokonoi replied.

Sanzu’s grin widened. “Let them come. I’d like to see who’s stupid enough to try and erase us.”

Mikey, who was just listening from the beginning, his gaze drifted back to the night skyline—Tokyo glittering like a serpent of lights beneath them.

He stood.

“We'd better be ready.”

And as the room fell into thick, anticipatory silence again, none of them noticed—

Outside the penthouse window, high above the neon city, something dark shifted against the skyline.

Something watching. Waiting.

Rome, ITALY

Rome should’ve felt sacred—marble, gold, and centuries of history woven into every stone. Instead, the air stank of iron, decay… and fear.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

Bodies—some exorcised, some mangled—were being hauled away by emergency teams and local sorcerers. The alleyways near the old basilica were still smoking, thick black scorch marks carved into the ancient walls.

This curse wasn’t just strong. It was feral.

The Italian sorcerers briefed me quickly—voices tight, rattled, too shaken to hide it.

“È un incubo… un demone antico… We already lost three Grade 1s.”

“It moves fast. Very fast.”

“We thought it was something minor, then it slaughtered everyone who entered the church.”

I cracked my neck, adjusting my gloves as I looked up at the looming basilica before us. “So a bad day for everyone,” I muttered. “Lovely.”

They stared at me—nervous and pale.

“You—you are the Japanese sorcerer sent here?” one of them asked.

“Yup.”

“You came alone?”

“Apparently.”

They exchanged looks. Not hopeful ones.

One of them, a tall guy named Lazzaro, stepped closer. “Listen… if things turn bad, we will provide support but—”

“Just don’t get in the way,” I said simply, stepping past them.

He blinked. “Scusa?”

I shrugged. “Trust me. If you’re not fast enough, you’ll just die. Stay back.”

Their shock followed me all the way to the basilica doors.

The moment I stepped inside, the cursed energy hit like a tidal wave.

Heavy. Thick. Pressing.

The scent of blood soaked the air. Stained glass was shattered, pews split clean down the middle, the marble floor cracked like eggshell.

And in the center, crouched on all fours like some twisted beast, was the curse.

Tall. Long-limbed. Skin like tar. Multiple eyes blinking out of sync. Mouth splitting open too wide, dripping something black that hissed against the stone.

Yeah. Definitely Sukuna-finger level.

It snapped its head toward me, every eye dilating.

Then it lunged.

It was fast—faster than most sorcerers could track.

I stepped sideways, cursed energy bursting beneath my feet as I pivoted, letting its claws slice air instead of bone. The whole basilica shook as its strike smashed into the pillars.

The Italians outside gasped—they could definitely feel that.

I raised my hand.

Canvas Technique: Ink Whip.

A streak of black, glowing, cursed ink coiled from my palm and snapped across the curse’s body, cutting a deep gash through its shoulder. The curse screeched, a sound that rattled the glass and bones alike.

From outside, I could hear Lazzaro’s stunned voice.

“Dio mio… She’s—she’s fighting it alone?”

The curse charged again, screeching, its body contorting unnaturally. I summoned again—this time with more force.

A tattoo on my ribs burned hot—activating. Emotion flared, memory overlapping with adrenaline.

Ink rushed from my skin— A monstrous serpent, made of swirling black strokes, erupted from the floor.

Nure-onna. Her hiss echoed through the basilica as she coiled protectively in front of me.

The curse lunged—and she struck, slamming her massive tail into its midsection, sending it crashing through the altar in an explosion of stone.

I walked forward slowly, brushing dust off my clothes.

“Come on,” I taunted. “You dragged me all the way to Rome. At least try.”

The curse shrieked in a new pitch—angrier, more unstable—and cursed energy exploded from it in violent waves.

The Italians shouted from outside:

“Is she insane?! That thing is a catastrophe-level curse!”

“She should be dead!”

“How is she—how is she even—?”

But I wasn’t listening.

Because the curse wasn’t done yet.

It clawed its way out of the rubble, body deforming further, energy spiking until the whole basilica trembled. It raised both arms, forming a massive ball of condensed cursed energy—

Yeah, that would absolutely kill a Grade 1.

I raised my hand, letting cursed ink gather at my fingertips.

“Don’t make me use the big one,” I warned. “I just fixed my makeup.”

The curse roared and threw the attack.

The air split apart.

I slammed my palm down on the ground— Cursed Technique: Ink Seal — Binding Frame.

A massive ink circle erupted beneath the curse, locking its movement for half a second.

A half second was all I needed.

My brush-blade formed in my hand, swirling cursed ink, solidifying into a long, obsidian edge. I dashed forward, slicing upward in a clean arc.

The curse’s arm flew off. The shockwave sent debris flying, the outer walls cracking from the force. The Italians ducked, swearing loudly.

“WHAT—WHAT LEVEL IS SHE?!”

“Yaga said she was Grade 1—”

“That is NOT Grade 1!”

Inside, the curse staggered backward, screeching in pain.

I exhaled.

“Alright. Time to end it.”

I stepped forward, ink swirling around me like a miniature storm.

Domain Expansion — Ink Style: Soul Rendering Stroke.

A surge of cursed ink filled the basilica, its walls stretching and warping, the ceiling dissolving into a swirling black mass. My brush-blade grew massive, towering above me like a guillotine.

The curse froze. Everything in my domain was guaranteed to be hit.

“Goodbye,” I whispered.

I swung. Light, ink, and raw cursed force exploded in a single devastating stroke.

When the domain dissolved, the basilica was silent.

The curse was gone—erased cleanly, nothing left but dissipating black dust.

I walked out of the basilica, brushing debris off my clothes, hair slightly messy from all the explosions.

The Italian sorcerers stared at me like I had descended from the heavens. Or hell. Hard to tell.

Lazzaro swallowed hard. “You… defeated it. Alone.”

I popped my shoulder back into place. “Yeah.”

“That—That was a special grade.”

“Yeah.”

He stared. “…And you’re Grade 1?”

I smirked, walking past him. “According to the higher-ups? Apparently.”

They didn’t argue. They were too busy questioning reality.

—

The celebration outside the basilica was small but loud—Italian sorcerers cheering, clapping my shoulder, praising me in rapid, accented English and frantic Italian. Someone tried handing me a drink. Someone else said I should stay another week so they could properly thank me.

I smiled, accepted their praise, and even laughed a little.

But underneath all of it… Something tugged at the edge of my senses.

A presence. Quiet. Very familiar. My blood ran cold.

I excused myself with a quick, “Give me a sec—,” before slipping away from the crowd.

The night in Rome was still warm, the streets glowing gold under the old lantern-style lights. But the deeper I walked, the colder it felt. I followed the residue of cursed energy trailing like smoke through the air, turning down a narrow alley between two ancient stone buildings.

The presence sharpened. I already knew.

I stopped mid-step.

A figure leaned casually against the wall—half-shadow, half-smirk.

Suguru Geto.

His robes were darker than usual, his hair tied loosely, bangs brushing his cheek. He looked like a memory someone forgot to let die. But his aura… that was unmistakable. Heavy. Wrong. Familiar.

“Shit,” I breathed out, hand instinctively twitching toward my weapon.

Geto chuckled softly, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I’m flattered you still recognize me that quickly.”

I glared. “Hard not to. You’re like mold. You linger in places you shouldn’t.”

“Hurtful,” he said, but his voice carried a warmth I didn’t want to acknowledge.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Rome buzzed faintly in the distance—music, cars, voices—but in this alley, it was silent.

“You’re the reason that curse was here,” I said finally. Not a question. A fact.

His smile didn’t vanish. It softened. “I needed your attention. The quickest way to get you across the world is to give the higher-ups a disaster they can’t ignore.”

“So you sent a special grade into a holy site,” I said dryly. “Classic Suguru.”

He laughed softly, like we were still teenagers in the hallway at Jujutsu High.

I hated how easy it was for him.

“Why here?” I asked. “Why now?”

His eyes—those same tired, sharp eyes I remembered—lifted to mine. The smile faded. “Because anything I say in Japan will be twisted by that decrepit council. Here, no ears listening.”

He stepped forward, slow, deliberate.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

“You should’ve been a special grade years ago,” he said, voice low, certain. “You’re strong. Stronger than the ones judging you.”

My jaw tightened. “Don’t start—”

“It’s the truth.” He cut me off, gentle but firm. “They refuse to rank you properly because you’re not from a prestigious clan. Because you don’t have a name that makes them feel safe. Because they fear what they can’t control.”

His words hit harder than any curse.

I swallowed. “That doesn’t mean I want your help.”

“I didn’t come to recruit you,” he said quietly. “If I did, you’d know.”

He took another step. Close enough that I could see the faint scar on his cheek. Close enough that old memories tried to claw up my throat.

“You deserve more than what they’ve given you,” he said. “More than their leash. More than their fear.”

I clenched my fists. “Stop talking like you’re on my side.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes softening. “And if I still am?”

That hurt. More than it should have.

“You’re the enemy now, Suguru,” I whispered.

“Enemy…” He tasted the word, looking faintly amused. “…and yet the first thing you did was walk toward me, not away.”

My breath hitched—just slightly.

He noticed.

Geto always noticed.

His voice lowered. “I’m not your threat, Y/N. I never was. You know who held you back. Who watched you? Who still tries to control you? And you know why.”

“I don’t care about rank,” I said, too quickly.

“You do,” he answered. “Because rank determines freedom. And you, more than anyone, deserve that.”

Silence again.

Wind brushed past us, carrying the distant sound of church bells —and here we were, two ghosts of our own past, standing in the dark as nothing had changed.

But everything had.

Geto finally stepped back, giving me space. Respecting a boundary he’d already stepped over long ago.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I won’t interfere with your mission. I just wanted to see you. And to tell you the truth, the higher-ups never will.”

I stared at him, absorbing every word, every breath, every reminder of who he used to be—and who he’d become.

“Next time we meet,” I said, “I won’t let you walk away.”

He smiled again—sad, soft, and annoyingly fond.

“I look forward to it.”

Then his form blurred—cursed energy curling around him like smoke—and he disappeared down the alley, leaving nothing behind but the faint imprint of his presence.

I exhaled shakily.

“Why now…?” I murmured to myself.

No answer came.

Only the night.

And the unsettling truth that the world was shifting—faster than any of us realized.

Bonten — Japan

The convoy rolled out from their private club, engines purring as their tinted, bulletproof SUVs cut through the empty streets. Inside, the men were still buzzing from the hours of drinking, drugs, and women—anything to drown the pressure of the recent massacres weighing over their heads like a curse.

In the first SUV sat Mikey, Sanzu, Kakucho, and Kokonoi, lounging in their seats as city lights streaked past the windows. The second SUV held the other half of the command unit, and a third followed behind, packed with Bonten soldiers armed to the teeth—just routine escort, nothing they hadn’t done a thousand times before.

The roads were unusually empty for Tokyo. Too empty.

Inside the second SUV, the man in the shotgun seat jolted when his phone buzzed violently in his pocket. He frowned, checked the caller ID—one of Bonten’s safehouses—then swiped to answer.

“Yo, what’s—”

Screaming exploded through the speaker.

Raw. Terrified.

“HELP! HELP—DON’T COME—DON’T COME HERE—JUST RUN—IT’S KILLING EVERYONE—IT’S—”

Gunshots. Something crashing. A wet, tearing sound.

The man paled. “Oi! Calm down—WHAT’S GOING ON?! Who’s attacking you?!”

Even the men in the first SUV could hear the screaming through the comms. Sanzu rubbed his temple hard.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT NOISE—turn that shit down, it’s making my head spin,” he snapped, irritated and half drunk.

Kokonoi leaned forward, brow furrowing. “Patch the call through. Now.”

But before the man could respond—

THWIP.

In a blink, a sharp, jagged nail—black and several inches long—punctured straight through the car roof and into the top of the shotgun man’s skull.

His scream never formed.

Blood sprayed across the dashboard.

“SHIT—!!”

The driver panicked, swerving violently, the SUV skidding sideways across the empty midnight street. Tires screeched. Metal scraped. Mikey leaned forward from the back seat, eyes dark and cold, watching the chaos with deadly sharpness.

The driver fought the wheel, pulse hammering, breathing ragged. “SA—SOMETHING—SOMEONE—IT JUMPED ON THE CAR, I DON’T KNOW—!!”

He managed to stabilize the SUV, though his shaken hands trembled on the wheel.

Silence.

Then—

A low, guttural growl echoed from directly ahead.

The SUV’s headlights flickered, then stabilized… illuminating something standing in the center of the road.

Something massive.

A hulking curse—warped, bloated, skin stretched over bulging muscles, mouth hanging open with rows of crooked teeth. Multiple arms. No eyes. Blackened nails dripping with blood—the same kind that killed their man.

It was grotesque, deformed, a low-level creature by cursed standards—but towering enough to look monstrous even to hardened killers.

“What… the fuck… is that…?” the driver whispered, shaking violently, knuckles white on the wheel.

From the SUV behind, doors swung open.

Bonten soldiers spilled out, weapons raised in perfect synchronization, forming formation lines across the road.

Someone shouted, “OPEN FIRE!”

Gunshots erupted into the night, relentless, deafening bursts lighting up the street as bullets tore into the creature’s flesh. The curse roared, stumbling back as chunks of meat exploded off its body. The curse screeched—a retching, guttural sound that vibrated through the pavement.

The men kept firing. Kept shouting.

The curse lunged.

Screams erupted. Gunfire intensified. Blood sprayed across the pavement.

The streetlights flickered—

—then went completely dark.

The last thing the convoy saw was the creature raising one massive claw—

before the entire road was swallowed into darkness.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Previous // Next

I've finally updated after a month. I apologize for the delay. Hopefully you guys enjoy this one:)

[inkredibleworld]

Small update, guys!

I finally got the email saying “Congratulations!” — I officially have a job! 🎉

To be honest, I wasn’t really expecting to pass. It’s not exactly the kind of field I usually go for, but I decided to give it a shot along with my friends after one of them recommended it. At that point, we were all just trying out different opportunities, hoping something would click, haha.

But lo and behold, the next day, I received an email saying I passed the final interview! Now I’m in the process of completing my requirements so I can start my training next month.

Not gonna lie, I did feel a bit sad and even a little guilty because out of the three of us, I was the only one who got in. We’ve been applying together and supporting each other through it all, so it’s tough seeing my friends left behind. But maybe this just isn’t the right path for them — maybe they’re meant for something better, where they’ll truly grow and succeed.

To anyone who might be in the same situation as my friends: don’t worry, don’t rush, and don’t compare your journey to others. Everyone moves at their own pace. Your time will come. The right opportunity will find you, one that’s meant for you to thrive, succeed, and flourish in.

So yeah, that’s all! Just a little announcement.

As for the story, updates might be a bit slower starting today. I promise I’m not abandoning it — just taking things one step at a time.

Thank you all for understanding! 💖

[inkredibleworld]

ɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

A crossover fanfic featuring JJK x F!Reader x Bonten Arc (Tokyo Revengers)

Chapter 08

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The sunlight was warm that afternoon—gold spilling through the branches of the sakura tree outside the old bike shop. The air smelled faintly of oil, metal, and the sweetness of summer. I was lying on my bike, chewing on a stick of Pocky, while Draken worked on his engine beside me. Mitsuya was sketching something on the curb, and Pah-chin and Peh-yan were bickering over snacks again.

Everyone was loud, chaotic—like always. But Y/N was quiet.

I noticed her sitting on the porch’s edge, staring out into the street. Her eyes weren’t just daydreaming; it was something else, like she was looking through the world instead of at it.

I tilted my head. “Oi, Y/N,” I called out, grinning. “You’ve been staring at nothing again. You see a ghost or something?”

She blinked, seemed startled, then forced a small smile. “No. Just… zoned out.” Draken looked up from his bike. “You’ve been spacing out a lot lately. Everything good at home?”

Y/N nodded, and we all let it go. But I remember how her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Later, we all went down to the riverbank—our usual hangout spot. The sun was setting, painting the sky in orange and rose gold. I was sitting on the ledge, legs swinging as I ate taiyaki. Mitsuya teased me about that one time I slipped into the river. “Didn’t almost fall,” I muttered, mouth full. “Draken pushed me.” Draken laughed. “You slipped on your own, idiot.” The others laughed too. It was stupid, but it felt good—the kind of laughter that made the world feel simple.

Then, mid-laugh, I caught Y/N again—staring at the river, not looking at the reflection or the sunset. Just… staring, frozen.

“Y/N?” I leaned forward, squinting at her. “There it is again. That face. You keep looking at nothing.” She blinked fast and turned to me with a shaky smile. “Oh no, it’s nothing.” I smirked. “If a ghost’s bothering you, I’ll punch it.” That got her to laugh—really laugh. And for a second, I felt proud—like I’d saved her from whatever weird thought she’d been stuck in. But when her laughter faded, I saw something in her expression that didn’t sit right—a kind of sadness she didn’t want anyone to notice.

Several months passed. We were all on our bikes, riding through Tokyo under the moonlight. The wind was cool, the city alive around us. I rode at the front, my blonde hair whipping behind me, the hum of engines echoing down the street.

I looked in the mirror a few times and saw Y/N behind me. Her grip on the handlebars looked tight—too tense for just a normal ride.

“Y/N! You good back there?” I shouted over the wind. She called back, “Yeah!” but her voice cracked.

Something about it made me slow down. For just a heartbeat, her head jerked slightly, like she was looking at something beside me. I followed her gaze but saw nothing—just the blur of buildings and lights. She looked terrified for a second, then blinked, shook her head, and kept riding. I told myself it was just stress—maybe lack of sleep. But even then, part of me knew there was something wrong.

The dream shifted—like flipping pages. Now we were all at the shrine for New Year’s. Takemichi and Draken were arguing over fortune slips again. Mitsuya was laughing. It was the kind of night that felt peaceful, like time had slowed down. I was leaning on Y/N’s shoulder, half-asleep, when fireworks started popping overhead. The colors painted her face—reds, golds, blues. She was smiling at first. Then it faded. Her eyes followed the fireworks up, but there was something else there—something I couldn’t see. The way her pupils dilated, the way her breath hitched. I straightened a little. “Y/N? Hey, what’s wrong?” She looked down at me, forced a small smile. “Nothing. I’m fine.” I stared at her for a moment longer, trying to read her expression. Then I nodded, like I believed her—because that’s what she needed me to do. “Okay,” I said softly, then nudged her shoulder. “Don’t go spacing out again. You’ll miss the fun.” She smiled at me—small, fragile—but her eyes drifted back to the sky. I followed her gaze again, saw nothing but fireworks fading into smoke.

The first thing he felt was the cold. Not the kind that bit at the skin, but the kind that settled inside—a quiet, lingering chill that sank into his chest and stayed there. Mikey stirred, eyes fluttering open. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. His mind was still tangled in the sound of laughter echoing by the river—the warmth of the sun, everyone’s voices teasing in the background. Then the memories slipped away, leaving only the dim gray light of his penthouse. Tokyo stretched beyond the window—still and silent, a haze of soft blue and faint gold. The blinds were half-drawn, letting in stripes of dawn that cut across the room. Dust drifted lazily in the air, visible only when the light caught it just right. He sat up slowly, the sheets falling from his shoulders. Sweat clung to his skin despite the cool air. His hand trembled slightly as he ran it through his hair, pushing it back from his eyes. “Dreaming again, huh,” he murmured, voice rough and low.

For a moment, he just sat there, elbows resting on his knees. The silence pressed heavy around him—only the faint hum of the air conditioner and the muted thrum of distant traffic below. It was too quiet. His gaze dropped to the floor, unfocused. “You used to do that a lot,” he said under his breath. “Just stare at random places like the world disappeared for a second.” A small, tired laugh escaped him. “I thought you were zoning out. I even teased you for it.” The smile that followed was faint—brief—gone as quickly as it came. His eyes softened, haunted. “But you really did, didn’t you?”

He leaned back against the headboard, his expression unreadable. The words came slower now, quieter, as if speaking them might break something. “The curses you told us about… they were there even back then, weren’t they?” His jaw tensed. He dragged a hand down his face, sighing quietly. The sound filled the empty room like a whisper of regret. The lighter on the nightstand caught his eye. He reached for it, flicking it open. A small flame sparked to life, its glow flickering in his eyes. He stared at it for a moment, almost mesmerized by the way it wavered in the still air, before closing it with a soft click. “I didn’t believe in any of it,” he muttered. “Ghosts, monsters… all that supernatural crap. Guess I was the blind one.”

A knock broke through the silence. “Boss, it’s already seven. Meeting’s in an hour,” Kakucho’s voice called from outside the door. Mikey didn’t answer at first. His eyes stayed fixed on the faint sunlight creeping across the wall. His voice came only after a long pause—quiet and steady. “I’ll be there.” The footsteps faded. Silence returned—heavier now.

He leaned back once more, staring at nothing. The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, hollow but real. “All those years, you were just a kid, seeing things no one else could. Must’ve been difficult keeping it to yourself.” A soft breath escaped him, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “I used to think you were weird. Guess you were just surviving.” The thought lingered in the air, echoing quietly as he stood. The motion was slow, the weight of exhaustion visible in the way he moved. He just grabbed any available shirt, showing the Bonten insignia on the back of his neck.

Before leaving, he stopped by the window. Outside, the city was waking up—lights flickering, cars moving, the hum of a world that never really slept. He pressed his hand lightly against the glass, eyes distant. “If those curses were really there back then…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You must’ve felt so damn alone.” The silence answered him.

He flicked the lighter one more time before slipping it into his pocket—the small flame briefly flaring against his reflection in the window, two versions of himself staring back: the boy who laughed at shadows, and the man haunted by them. “Back then,” he whispered, “I thought I understood you. Turns out, I didn’t know a damn thing.” He turned and walked out, the soft click of the door echoing through the stillness.

The room was quiet again. Only the faint hum of Tokyo filled the void he left behind—and somewhere in that silence, the memory of a girl staring into nothing, seeing everything, lingered like the ghost of a summer that never really ended.

The morning sun hung high above Jujutsu High, its golden light spilling across the wide open field that stretched behind the main building. The air was cool and clear, the faint scent of grass mixing with the crisp breeze rolling through the trees. The steady rhythm of movement filled the space — thuds of impact, footsteps shifting on dirt and grass, short breaths between exchanges.

“Focus your stance,” I said firmly, my voice carrying across the open field. “You’re leaving your right open, Maki.” Maki adjusted her footing, staff in hand, the sunlight glinting off its steel edge. “Like this?” “Better.”

I stood a few meters away, wearing a sleeveless, fitted black top and loose tactical pants that allowed a full range of motion. My tattoos — intricate swirls of ink that coiled down my arms and over my shoulders — glimmered faintly with residual cursed energy whenever the light caught them. Each motion I made was sharp, deliberate, yet effortless.

Panda stood nearby, crouched and grinning. “Alright, sensei, don’t hold back this time!” I smirked, brushing a stray strand of hair back. “You asked for it.”

Before anyone could blink, I closed the distance — grass scattering under my feet as I launched forward. Panda barely raised his arms before my kick struck his guard, forcing him back with a solid impact that sent dirt flying. Maki darted in next, swinging her staff. I caught the blow on my forearm, twisted my wrist, and countered with a leg sweep that dropped her to the ground.

“C’mon, I know you can do better than that,” I teased lightly, sidestepping just as Toge rushed in. Toge’s movements were quick, disciplined — his hand striking forward with precision — but I caught his wrist mid-motion, redirected his force, and sent him flipping cleanly onto his back. The grass rustled softly when he hit the ground.

“Not bad,” I said with a grin. “You guys are improving your timing.” Maki groaned from the dirt, reaching for my offered hand. “You make that sound like a compliment and insult at the same time.” I chuckled. “Depends on how you take it.” Even Panda laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re getting there,” I said, brushing off my hands. “Your coordination’s improving.” Maki smirked, stretching her arms. “Guess we have a good teacher, unlike a certain blind man.” “Flattery won’t save you next round,” I teased. “Take five. Hydrate.”

The group dropped onto the grass beneath the shade of a large tree. A soft wind stirred through the leaves, carrying the faint hum of cicadas from somewhere nearby. Panda lay flat on his back, staring up at the sky, while Toge quietly sipped his drink beside him. Maki leaned against the trunk, catching her breath.

I sat a few feet away, towel draped around my neck, the sunlight catching the faint shimmer of sweat on my skin. For a moment, my eyes drifted to my phone resting beside my water bottle. I hesitated.

My thoughts flicked briefly to Yuki — the bandages, the nonchalant “I’ll be fine.” She didn’t look fine then, and I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. With a soft exhale, I unlocked my phone.

        Me: “Hey, are you alright? Just wanted to check in.”

The sound of the breeze filled the silence as I waited. Panda’s laughter and Maki’s faint bickering drifted in the background, distant against the soft rustling of leaves. Then, my phone buzzed. One new message.

        Yuki: “I’m okay. Just don’t contact me again. Our meeting was a one-time thing. It doesn’t  change anything between us.”

The warmth drained from my expression. I stared at the message, eyes still and quiet, the world momentarily blurring at the edges. A cicada cried somewhere in the trees — long, shrill, and lonely.

Maki noticed. “You good?” I blinked, forcing my expression to soften. “Yeah?” “You’ve been staring at your phone for a while,” she said, concern lacing her tone. “Yeah,” I murmured, slipping the phone into my pocket. “Just a message.” Panda rolled onto his side. “Bad news?” I gave a small, humorless laugh. “Something like that, but it’s not that important.”

My eyes drifted over the horizon — the blue sky, the sun glittering against the treetops — but my mind was somewhere else.

I guess that’s what gets you when you randomly disappear on them. I don’t blame her.Maki frowned, watching me closely. “We can stop here if you want. You look—” “I’m fine,” I cut in gently, standing up and dusting off my pants. I pulled my hair into a quick tie, my voice firm again. “Come on. Let’s go another round.” Panda hesitated. “You sure?” I smirked faintly, though the smile didn’t reach my eyes. “You think I’m gonna let you off easy because of a text?”

That drew a laugh from all three of them — awkward but genuine — and they rose from the grass, forming back into formation on the open field. “Alright,” I said, dropping back into stance. “Same formation. Make it clean this time.”

They attacked in sync — the fight resumed fast, fluid, and relentless. I moved like water, blocking and striking with precision, the tattoos along my arms pulsing faintly with energy. Each motion was controlled, but something beneath it — something sharp and restless—pressed against my restraint. My hits landed a bit heavier. My steps are a bit faster.

Maki grunted as she parried. “You’re really going all out, huh?” “Don’t hold back just because I’m teaching,” I countered, twisting away from Panda’s swing and sweeping his legs out from under him.

I caught his arm before he hit the ground too hard, softening the fall — then stepped back, chest rising and falling steadily. “That’s enough,” I said finally, my voice calm again.

The three students collapsed onto the grass, panting and laughing, the tension breaking. Maki took another drink and glanced over. “Another session this week?” I smiled faintly, a towel draped over my shoulder. “Yeah. I’ll just let you know when.”

The breeze rolled through again, lifting strands of my hair as I turned toward the edge of the field. The sunlight gleamed against the ink on my arms, the shapes flickering faintly with each heartbeat. I pulled out my phone once more, thumb brushing over the screen where Yuki’s message still lingered. I was only checking if she was fine after the injury anyway. Now that I knew, that was enough.

The screen dimmed, and I slipped the phone back into my pocket. The others watched me in silence, sensing something unspoken. But none of them said a word. The sound of wind through the trees filled the space again, soft and endless — carrying away what little remained of the conversation that would never happen.

The sun had dipped lower now, painting the sky in soft streaks of orange and gold. The cicadas had quieted, replaced by the gentle whisper of the wind brushing over the tall grass. The second-years had already left — Maki, Panda, and Toge heading back toward the main building, their laughter fading into the distance. The once lively field had fallen into peaceful stillness.

I stayed behind. I stood at the center of the field, wooden staff in hand, my breath steady and controlled. My sleeveless shirt clung slightly from the day’s exertion, tattoos tracing my arms like living ink. I raised the staff, slid into stance, and began moving — slow, deliberate swings, each motion clean and practiced. The staff cut through the air with a soft whsshh, my focus unwavering. I turned, struck, pivoted — again and again — losing myself in the rhythm.

For a while, it was just me and the sound of my heartbeat. I didn’t notice the tall figure watching from the edge of the field.

Satoru leaned lazily against a tree, one hand tucked into his pocket, his blindfold glinting faintly in the sun’s dying light. A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched me — precise, graceful, and entirely absorbed in my own world. He slowly walked until he was only a few meters away. He tilted his head slightly. “You’re gonna wear yourself out before dinner.”

I froze mid-swing, startled. “—What the hell, Satoru?” He stepped closer, chuckling softly. “Relax. I’ve been standing here for, what, two minutes? You didn’t even notice.” “Maybe because some of us still actually train,” I shot back, twirling my staff and taking a step back. “Ouch,” Gojo laughed, feigning a wince. “You wound me.” “Want me to make it worse?” I teased, arching an eyebrow. That made him grin. “You offering a challenge?” “Maybe.”

Gojo clapped his hands once, amused. “Then let’s see what you’ve got, sensei.” Before I could retort, he picked up a wooden staff from the nearby rack, twirling it effortlessly between his fingers like it weighed nothing. The air shifted slightly — the playful atmosphere thickening with quiet tension. We faced each other, feet firm on the grass. The setting sun framed us in gold.

“Tsk, show-off,” I said, smiling softly. “C’mon, you know me. Ready?” he asked. I nodded once. “Don’t hold back.”

And then we moved.

Our staff clashed with a sharp crack that echoed through the field. I pushed forward first — fast, aggressive, my strikes tight and precise. Gojo blocked each one with lazy precision, his expression calm and almost bored. I ducked under one counter, pivoted, and aimed low. He parried without effort, the wood meeting his with a clean thwack.

“Not bad,” he said casually, spinning his staff in a blur. “Your form’s cleaner than last time.” “Trying to distract me?” “Would it work?” “Not a chance.”

I struck again — high, then low — the motion fluid, fast, beautiful. Gojo deflected them all, stepping just out of reach every time, his grin widening. “Almost had me there,” he teased, tapping the ground with his staff like a conductor’s baton.

I exhaled, sliding into another stance, determination burning in my eyes. I feinted left, then lunged — this time faster, stronger, my tattoos faintly glowing from the cursed energy woven into my movements. Gojo tilted his head, amused. “Now that’s more like it.”

Our staff collided again, the vibrations humming through the air. I twisted mid-strike, trying to catch him off guard. He parried smoothly, flicking his wrist — and suddenly my weapon was knocked just slightly off balance. I barely had time to recover before the end of his staff flicked upward — tapping my chin lightly, then stopping just short of my forehead.

Tap.The sound was soft, almost affectionate. “Dead,” he said with a grin.

I blinked, lowering my weapon slowly, breath still quick from the exchange. “You got lucky.” “Mm, did I? I mean, you told me not to hold back.” I scoffed lightly. “You didn’t even use half your strength.” “True,” he admitted with a shrug. “But you made me move. That’s something.” I rolled my eyes, though a faint smile ghosted my lips. “Oh, I’m so honored.” He chuckled, tapping my forehead once more — gentler this time. “Don’t pout, you did great.” “I’m not pouting.” “Sure you’re not.”

The silence that followed was light, comfortable. The wind brushed through the grass again, carrying the warmth of the setting sun between us. Gojo lowered his staff, resting it against his shoulder. “You’ve been pushing yourself lately,” he said, voice quieter now, less teasing. “Everything alright?” I looked away briefly, my expression unreadable. “Just keeping busy.” He hummed softly in response, though his gaze lingered — seeing more than I wanted him to. “Hm. You always say that.” “Because it’s true.” Gojo’s smile softened. “Alright, if you say so.”

We stood there for a moment — two silhouettes in the fading light, shadows stretching long across the grass. I spun my staff once more, letting the wood rest across my shoulders. “I’ll get you next time.” Gojo grinned, already walking away. “I’ll be waiting, sensei.”

And with that, he disappeared in a blink, his voice echoing faintly through the quiet field. I exhaled a laugh under my breath, shaking my head. I looked toward the horizon — where the last of the sunlight kissed the edge of the sky — and for the first time that day, my shoulders eased. The world felt quiet again. Just me, the staff, and the whisper of wind through the grass.

It’s better this way.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

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[inkredibleworld]

Not related to my story but I finally got himmmm. HE'S HOMEEEE 💙🫶

Just wanted to share, like after a month of farming primos, artifacts, and talent materials. I can finally sleep in peace.🫩

[inkredibleworld]

every time you post, i gobble it up like a starved animal. ty for the food, ink! 🥺

Sending big hearts to you ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🥹

[inkredibleworld]

ɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

A crossover fanfic featuring JJK x F!Reader x Bonten Arc (Tokyo Revengers)

Chapter 07

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I kept my eyes on the man at the center of the room until whatever air was left in my lungs felt borrowed. He hadn’t looked like this the last time I’d seen him. My breath fogged for a second and then steadied. “No fucking way,” I whispered, more to myself than to anyone else.

His gaze was already watching me — hard, unblinking. For a ridiculous second, I saw the kid from those old memories, the one who’d wolf down doriyaki when Draken bought them — and then the facade shifted back into the man in front of me. Sano Manjiro, head of Bonten, was the reason half this room moved the way it did.

Mikey didn’t need to name who he wanted out. He simply said, “Get out.”

Yuki, still clutching her side, bowed on instinct and retreated. She glanced at me for half a beat — that fleeting, loaded look — and then she was gone, slipping past the four guards stationed at the office door. Two stood inside by the threshold, two more outside the elevator banks, none of them took their eyes off the doorway until it shut.

The giant oval table filled the center of the top-floor office. Polished mahogany reflected low crystal light; a decanter of something expensive sat within arm’s reach of every man who could afford to be careless. When the door shut and Yuki’s footsteps faded, the room narrowed to just me, Bonten’s executives, and the hush that comes right before a storm.

“Well, don’t just stand there — explain bitch,” the pink-haired man drawled, his voice oily as he flicked a gun between two fingers on the table. The metal sang against the polished wood like a threat wrapped in a grin.

I straightened, crossing my arms slowly enough for it to look deliberate. “I don’t need to explain shit, pinky pie,” I said, posture relaxed, tone flat. The words were a provocation, and I meant them to be.

There was a crack of a gunshot in the air, only a breath’s width from my ear — the sound of a round streaking past my hair. The bullet chewed a neat line through a crystal lamp behind me and shattered it into glittering pieces. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. The ricochet sang against the windows, and the room inhaled sharply.

“You’d better change your tone, girl,” the pink-haired man snapped, voice low and lethal now. “I don’t give chances to bitches like you — or anybody, to be honest. Next time, this bullet will be straight to your head.”

Sanzu’s name cut across the room like a blade. He kept the gun leveled at me, the muzzle a promise. “And that’s Sanzu to you,” he added, voice smooth as vodka, eyes amused at his own cruelty. Around him, others watched — some with bored smirks as they sipped their drinks, others leaning forward with interest. It felt like watching vultures deciding who’s worth pecking first.

I swiveled on my heel so the light hit me from the side and let a smirk play across my mouth. “Are you threatening me?” I sounded more amused than afraid. “Let me make this clear.” I leaned forward, hands braced on the table where his gun lay, the wood cold beneath my palms. “Without your little ‘mission,’ none of this would’ve happened. You wouldn’t have lost half your men, and you wouldn’t have nearly killed one of your own.”

Sanzu laughed then, a sound without warmth. “Please. They’re replaceable.” He shrugged as if he were talking about broken chairs. “And we could find a new bitch if we ever lost the current one.” He jabbed a thumb toward the door Yuki had left through, amusement curling across his face.

That made Rindou’s eyes flicker to Sanzu, and his jaw tightened. His voice was a low rumble only he could hear. “Like hell you will”, his expression said without words. He was thinking of Yuki, seeing her enter the office a while ago, while clutching her side made him feel something, but he just couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

Sanzu saw the warning in Rindou’s features and shrugged, grin unchanged. He liked pushing boundaries. He liked seeing who would snap first.

The room held its breath. Mikey’s chair made the faintest sound as he shifted. He didn’t need to shout or slam his fist; he simply looked at Sanzu, and the look contained enough history to be heavy.

“Enough.”

Mikey’s single word cut through the room like a blade. The small chatter, the thin laughter, the murmurs — all of it died. Even Sanzu’s smirk froze mid-curve.

He leaned back in his big boss chair as if the weight of the room belonged to him alone, fingers steepled. When he said my name — “Y/N” — there was no theatrics, no venom. Just the casual familiarity that made my skin prickle in a way. “It’s been a while. How are you?” he asked, voice soft enough to be almost conspiratorial.

Memories crowded at the edge of my vision — doriyaki in a sticky paper bag, afternoons that smelled like grease and cigarette smoke, Draken’s half-annoyed protection. The kid I used to be would have softened, maybe even laughed and answered honestly. But that kid didn’t exist anymore. Not here. Not with blood on my hands.

I let out a small, controlled huff. “Nice try, Mikey.” I kept my arms loose, posture casual. Sanzu couldn’t help himself — he jabbed in, voice slick “Oi, that’s boss to you.” I let the huff become a smile that tasted like metal. “Look. All I can tell you is you’re not the only predator. You might think you are — and for humans, maybe you are — but there are things out there that don’t give a single fuck about you. They don’t care about money, luxury, or other things that you do. Those things. They hunt. They haunt. They kill.”

Sanzu blinked like he’d been slapped with cold water. “Please,” he scoffed, but there was an edge now, something brittle. “There’s no one other than Bonten who’s strong in this country. We’re the kings. If anyone thinks otherwise, we root ’em out. Easy.”

“Are you sure about that?” I lifted an eyebrow; the small movement felt like a dare.

Sanzu’s hand slipped to the gun on the table — the cheap bravado he loved — and he tapped the grip with one manicured finger. “That’s strike two now,” he said, the threat flat and practiced.

I shook my head slowly, amused at his predictability. “You really do like theatrics, don’t you?” I let the words land and watched them peel back his confidence. The room hummed with the undercurrent of men recalibrating their threats into logistics. Sanzu just shook his head and took some pills out, not even using a drink, just swallowed them immediately.

“Well, okay then, miss,” a voice cut through the silence — calm, curious, but edged with arrogance. The man who spoke leaned forward slightly, long white hair catching the office light, the Bonten tattoo on the side of his head visible. His tone carried that lazy charm only people who had seen too much could fake. “Who are these so-called predators, then?”

My eyes flicked toward him, measuring, reading the slight curve of his smirk. “We call them curses,” I said flatly, not bothering to dress it up.

A few men exchanged glances, quiet disbelief layered under amusement. Kokonoi, perched comfortably with one leg crossed over the other, tilted his head, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. “You keep saying we,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “Are there other people like you?”

“I’m not answering any more of your questions.” My voice was steady, my gaze sweeping across their faces — half curious, half calculating. “The less you know, the better.”

The sound of ice clinking in a glass filled the silence before Ran spoke up, his tone teasing but his eyes sharp. “Now hold on,” he said, leaning forward with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What about the situation that happened in the club a few months ago, hmm? That was your doing, wasn’t it? Killing one of my employees, ransacking the whole basement.”

I didn’t move, I just listened.

Ran chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you were there because of those so-called curses, too.”

“Yes,” I said immediately — no hesitation, no breath wasted.

That one word hung in the air, heavier than it should’ve been. The room seemed still; even the hum of the city below faded behind thick glass.

“And how would you know there are curses?” another voice asked — older, heavier, steeped in nicotine and experience. The man sat toward the far end of the table, his features half hidden behind smoke. His fingers held a cigarette like it was part of him, the burning tip glowing faintly in the dim light. Something about him tugged at my memory, something from the old days — but I couldn’t place it.

I turned slightly to face him, letting the silence stretch for just a second longer before I spoke. “There are curses everywhere,” I said, my tone calm but cutting. “Small, big — whatever size there is. They’re everywhere like maggots, crawling and flying.”

My gaze swept across the table, taking in each of their faces — Ran’s half-smirk faltering, Kokonoi’s faint crease of disbelief, Rindou’s silent intensity, Sanzu’s irritation, Mikey’s unreadable calm. “You can’t see them,” I continued, “but they’re there. Feeding on all the filth, the fear, the hate. Every crime you commit, every life you ruin, every ounce of blood spilled—” my eyes wandered across the polished floor, the spotless furniture, “it’s all fuel for them.”

Their silence was heavy now. My gaze shifted upward, tracing the sleek marble walls, the dim lamps, the expensive art. The room looked pristine, like wealth could hide rot, but I could feel it. The thick, oily energy in the air. The dark traces of death and resentment are woven into every corner of this high-rise fortress.

“Of course,” I said quietly, almost to myself, “curses would flock here.” My eyes landed back on Mikey. “This is Bonten we’re talking about. This entire building is a breeding ground.”

The words hit the room like a drop of ink spreading through clear water. For a long second, no one said anything. Mikey didn’t move, didn’t blink — he just studied me with that same unshakable calm, as if trying to decide whether I was lying… or if the nightmare I described was already living in his walls.

“So what? You’re saying there are curses here now?” Ran leaned back in his chair, voice dripping with disbelief. The mocking tone was enough to draw a few low chuckles from the other men around the table.

“Actually, yes,” I said without hesitation, a small smirk forming on my lips. “I’d say around fifteen to twenty curses.” I tilted my head slightly, scanning the room, feeling the faint, crawling aura in the air. “Don’t worry, though — they’re no harm. They’re just here. I guess you could say… just chilling?”

The laughter died quickly.

For a moment, none of them spoke. Even Ran’s grin faltered as the words sank in. The silence in the room grew heavy — thick enough that the faint hum of the air conditioner seemed louder. I could feel the shift in the atmosphere; their gazes darted around the office as if expecting something to crawl out of the shadows.

Even the guards stationed behind me straightened, glancing left and right, hands subtly tightening on their weapons. They couldn’t see what I saw — but they could feel something now. The unexplainable weight that pressed down, cold and suffocating, made the air taste like static.

“Look,” I finally said, breaking the tension, my eyes locking on Mikey. “The reason why I’m only here is to tell you to get your men off my back.” My tone was steady, final. “If this is about the club a few months ago, I already told you the truth. I was there because a curse was there. When I got to the basement—” my gaze shifted to Ran, then Rindou “—your employee was already dead. Torn to pieces. I had nothing to do with it.”

The words lingered in the air like smoke. No one said a thing.

The tension was suffocating now. I could see the way Kokonoi’s jaw flexed slightly. A man with jet black hair, a scar running diagonally across the right side of his face, has his hand twitching on the table, Sanzu tapping his fingers impatiently near his gun. Even Mikey — calm, unreadable Mikey — was still as a statue, his eyes boring into me with that familiar, unnerving stare that always seemed to see too much.

“You don’t want to be a part of this,” I said, my tone lower now but edged with certainty. “I’m just letting you know headfirst. If you want to remain kings as is, then back off my back.” I looked around the table again, meeting every gaze. “You can continue whatever you’re doing. I don’t care.”

A heavy silence followed.

“Now,” I said, letting out a quiet breath, “if you’ll excuse me, I want to take my leave.” My eyes landed on Mikey one last time. His stare was still as sharp as a blade, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to go home.

“Now listen—” Sanzu started, tone sharp, almost stepping forward—

“You can go,” Mikey cut him off, his voice calm but final.

“But boss—”

Before Sanzu could finish, Mikey turned his gaze toward him — a single glare that could silence a storm. Sanzu froze, biting back his next words.

The room fell utterly quiet.

I didn’t wait for anyone to change their mind. I turned my back on them, the faint echo of my footsteps on the marble floor the only sound. The guards by the door moved immediately, opening it without a word.

As the doors closed behind me, the suffocating tension in the room seemed to dissolve, leaving behind nothing but silence, unease, and the faint, lingering whisper of something unseen that still clung to the walls of Bonten’s headquarters.

After Y/N left, silence clung to the office like smoke that refused to fade. The heavy door clicked shut behind her, and for a long moment, no one moved.

The two guards who had been standing inside finally stepped out, joining the others in the hall. Their boots echoed faintly before disappearing down the corridor.

Mikey sat perfectly still at the head of the table, gaze fixed on the spot where she’d stood just minutes ago. The crystal light overhead reflected in his eyes like ice.

Mochi was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat softly. “Do you think what she said was true?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. “I mean—curses? If that’s real, then hell, I guess ghosts are too.” He gave a short, uneasy laugh that died the second no one joined in.

Ran leaned back in his chair with a lazy sigh, arms crossed. “Come on, man,” he drawled, his grin sharp but a little forced. “You’re not seriously buying that supernatural crap, are you?”

Mochi shrugged, eyes darting toward the shattered lamp behind where Y/N had stood. “I don’t know, Haitani. You didn’t feel that? The air got heavy. Cold. Even the guards were tense.”

“Probably ‘cause Sanzu fired his gun in the middle of the damn room,” Rindou muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyone’d get jumpy after that.”

Sanzu smirked, lounging back like he owned the place. “What? She deserved it. Mouthy bitch needed to learn her place,” he said, spinning the gun once before setting it back down on the table. “All that talk about monsters and curses — total bluff.”

Kokonoi tilted his glass, letting the ice swirl against the amber liquid before taking a slow sip. “You sure?” he said quietly. His voice wasn’t mocking — just calm, analytical. “I was watching her the whole time. She didn’t flinch when Sanzu pulled the trigger, didn’t even blink. If she was bluffing, she’s damn good at it.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Mochi added, leaning forward. “You think someone like her would risk coming here, to us, just to lie? She looked too calm. Too certain.”

Ran scoffed. “Please. Some people are just good at acting. Maybe she’s trying to screw with us, make us paranoid so we back off. Classic psychological tactic.”

Rindou shot him a look. “You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

That shut Ran up for a second.

From his seat, Takeomi exhaled a long drag of his cigarette, smoke curling into the dim light. “You all sound like idiots,” he said, voice gravelly, patient in that older, worn-out way. “Curses, ghosts, demons, whatever she wants to call it — doesn’t matter. What matters is that she’s got guts. She stood here in front of us and didn’t shake once.” He tapped ash into the tray. “That alone makes her dangerous.”

“Dangerous, huh?” Sanzu echoed with a smirk, resting his chin on his palm. “More like suicidal. If she’s lying, we’ll find out soon enough. If she’s not…” His grin widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “…then I guess we’ll see how long those ‘curses’ of hers last when they meet real men.”

“You talk too much,” Rindou muttered, his tone cold.

Sanzu’s gaze slid to him, amused. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Rindou replied flatly. “Just saying, you talk too much for someone who almost pissed his pants when she said there were fifteen of them in this room.”

A low snicker came from Mochi’s direction, quickly stifled when Sanzu glared.

“Quite,” Mikey said quietly.

The word carried the same weight it had earlier — calm, but final. Instantly, the room fell silent again.

He hadn’t looked away from the door once. His hands rested loosely on the arms of the chair, eyes distant, thoughtful, but unreadable.

Ran shifted in his seat, tone softer now. “Boss… you don’t really think she was telling the truth, do you?”

Mikey didn’t answer right away. He tilted his head slightly, the faintest hint of a smile ghosting across his lips — though it wasn’t one of amusement. “She wasn’t lying,” he said finally. His voice was quiet, but it carried through the entire room.

The others exchanged uncertain looks.

“What makes you so sure?” Kokonoi asked.

Mikey’s gaze dropped to the polished surface of the table, to the faint hairline cracks where the bullet had grazed earlier. “Because I could feel it,” he said simply. “The air shifted the moment she walked in. Something cold.”

Takeomi scoffed. “So now you believe in ghosts?”

Mikey didn’t even glance at him. “No,” he said. “I believe in what I can see… and what I felt wasn’t human.”

The quiet that followed was heavier than before — like the walls themselves were listening.

Mochi swallowed hard, muttering under his breath, “Then what the hell does that mean for us?”

Kokonoi set his drink down with a soft clink. “It means,” he said slowly, “if she’s right… We’ve been sharing this building with something worse than enemies.”

Takeomi stubbed out his cigarette, the faint hiss of smoke filling the pause. “Whatever it is,” he said, tone rough, “it hasn’t touched us yet. Until it does, we keep doing what we do.” His eyes flicked toward Mikey.

Mikey’s expression didn’t change. He just looked out the window, the Tokyo skyline glowing beneath the night.

The room stayed still after that. No one spoke again. Only the faint hum of the city outside and the whisper of the air conditioner filled the silence — and somewhere in the corners of the office, though no one would admit it out loud, the air felt heavier.

As if something unseen really was still there.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

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[inkredibleworld]

i was kidding. i'm not done with my crashout. like. wdym i have to just move on with my life post-ch.6 of ur jjk crossover fic? wdym i have to go do my night routine after reading two chapters worth of drama, action, heart break, trauma, and suspense all rolled into a nice, snuggly fic? wdym i have to take my meds and fall asleep while questions and theories circle my head until i'm dizzy on what the fck is gonna happen in ch.7? what am i? fcking tweety bird? did i die and get reincarnated into a tom & jerry episode? wdym—

(im kidding. dw!! i loved the latest chapters. tho i am not joking about wondering whats gonna happen in ch.7 after that tease after the events detailed in ch.6)

sweetie i think you should breathe first🫣

[inkredibleworld]

ɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

A crossover fanfic featuring JJK x F!Reader x Bonten Arc (Tokyo Revengers)

Chapter 06

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The night air was cool, carrying the faint hum of the city below as Yuki led Y/N up a narrow path. The streets behind them had grown quieter with every turn, until only the sound of their footsteps filled the silence.

Y/N walked a few steps behind, her gaze flicking to the empty alleys, the abandoned storefronts, the way shadows stretched unnaturally long. She felt that something was wrong. But she didn’t speak, only tucked her hands in her pockets and let Yuki guide her.

Finally, they reached the spot. An open stretch overlooking the cityscape, the skyline shimmering with neon lights. It was beautiful, almost peaceful—if not for the suffocating stillness around them.

Y/N’s lips curved faintly. “Nice view.”

Yuki exhaled slowly, forcing a smile. “Told you it’d be worth it.”

But before either of them could say more, the silence was shattered.

The roar of engines echoed up the hill—motorcycles first, their headlights slicing through the night, followed by the low growl of cars. Tires screeched against the pavement, doors slammed, and within seconds, the overlook swarmed with figures. Men in black spread out in formation, steel pipes, chains, and knives glinting under the streetlamps.

Y/N stood still, her body tensing, but her expression calm.

Yuki took a few steps back, her heels scraping against gravel as she moved behind the line of Bonten men. Her eyes flicked to Y/N, the smirk on her lips a mask for the tight knot in her chest.

“No hard feelings,” Yuki said, voice steady despite the conflict twisting inside her. “Work is work, after all. But... I did enjoy dinner.”

Y/N turned her head slightly, amusement flickering in her gaze. She shook her head, a low chuckle escaping her lips. “I knew it all along.”

Yuki’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“There was something off ever since the coffee shop,” Y/N said, her voice cool, sharp. “Your emotions were all over the place. It was almost painful to watch. But I’ll admit...” she tilted her head, a faint smirk tugging at her mouth, “seeing you conflicted was enjoyable.”

Yuki clicked her tongue, irritation flashing across her face. “Tch. Always running your mouth.” She lifted her hand, signaling the men forward. “Capture her. Don’t kill her, though. Not yet.”

The order snapped like a whip.

The first wave of Bonten’s men surged forward, shoes pounding against the pavement. Pipes swung through the air, chains rattled, knives gleamed.

Y/N didn’t flinch.

As the first man lunged, she sidestepped smoothly, catching his arm and twisting it with brutal precision until a sickening crack echoed. He crumpled, screaming, before she shoved him aside. Another came at her with a chain, but she ducked low, her fist slamming into his ribs—once, twice—before she pivoted and elbowed him across the jaw.

Two more rushed in. She spun, using one as a shield against the other’s swing, the pipe smashing against his back. With one sharp kick, she sent both sprawling.

“Is this all you’ve got?” Y/N’s voice carried, sharp and mocking, as another grabbed her from behind. She slammed her heel down on his foot, elbow driving into his gut before flipping him over her shoulder.

The men hesitated for a fraction of a second. That was all it took for her to advance.

Her movements were fluid, every strike aimed with a precision born of endless combat. She didn’t need her cursed canvas, not against this. Her hands were weapons enough. A jab to the throat, a sweep of the legs, a fist that shattered teeth. One by one, the men dropped, groaning, clutching broken bones or gasping for breath.

Yuki watched from the back, her smirk fading into a clenched jaw. She’s toying with them.

Y/N straightened, tossing a beaten man aside as though he weighed nothing. Her eyes locked on Yuki, sharp, unyielding. “If this is Bonten’s grand plan to ‘capture me,’ you’ll have to try harder.”

Yuki’s nails dug into her palms. “Don’t get cocky. You’re just one person.”

Y/N just smirked. “That’s all it takes.”

The remaining men hesitated, some exchanging nervous glances. They’d never seen anyone fight like this—fast, precise, unstoppable, well, except their boss.

Yuki clicked her tongue again, frustration boiling over. “Don’t just stand there—get her!”

But the men hesitated, fear holding their feet.

Y/N tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Looks like they’ve already realized it. You can send as many as you want... but you won’t catch me.”

For the first time that night, Yuki’s mask cracked. Beneath the sharp eyes and biting tongue was the flicker of something else—uncertainty. Y/N saw it. She stepped forward slowly, deliberately, her presence radiating confidence. “You don’t really want this, do you? Not deep down.”

Yuki’s breath hitched. She quickly masked it with a glare. “Shut up.”

But Y/N only chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I almost feel sorry for you.”

The night air thickened with tension. The men who were still standing shifted uneasily, some retreating a step despite themselves. Y/N rolled her shoulders, ready for the next round, her eyes never leaving Yuki.

The battle wasn’t over—not by a long shot. But one thing was clear: Y/N wasn’t prey, not from the start. She was the predator.

The silence after Y/N’s words was short-lived.

Another car door slammed, followed by more footsteps. Reinforcements—Bonten wasn’t holding back. A second wave of men closed in from the road, armed heavily this time. Batons, short swords, even a shotgun gleaming under the streetlights. The air shifted, sharp with tension and exhaust fumes.

Yuki’s heart hammered in her chest. She’d underestimated how quickly things could spiral, but it was too late to stop now. If Y/N slipped away again, it wouldn’t just be Rindou choking her.

“Don’t just stand there!” Yuki snapped, her voice echoing across the overlook. “Pin her down!”

The men roared in response, a dozen rushing Y/N at once.

Y/N exhaled through her nose, her smirk hardening into focus. “Fine. Let’s end this.”

The first swung a sword downward, but she stepped in close, palm catching his wrist. With a sharp twist, the blade clattered to the ground, and her knee slammed into his stomach. He dropped before he could even scream.

Another charged with a baton, swinging wide. She ducked, her cursed energy sparking faintly across her fist as she uppercut him so hard his feet left the ground. The crunch of bone was unmistakable.

Three more tried to surround her, moving in sync. For a brief moment, Y/N almost looked cornered—then she slammed her heel into the asphalt. Cursed energy pulsed out in a shockwave, knocking them back like rag dolls.

“Shit—what the hell is she?!” one of the men shouted, scrambling to his feet. Y/N didn’t answer, she just swept his legs and kicked him across the jaw.

Her movements were fluid, relentless. She used the chaos to her advantage—pulling one man into another’s strike, redirecting weapons, breaking bones with surgical precision. Even unarmed, she fought like the battlefield itself bent to her rhythm.

Yuki clenched her fists where she stood, torn between awe and dread.

“Stop holding back!” Yuki screamed, voice sharp enough to cut. “You’re making us look like fools, capture her already!”

Y/N turned her head toward Yuki mid-fight, her smirk returning, dangerous and amused. “Funny. I could say the same to you.”

Her distraction didn’t cost her—because even when surrounded, she was untouchable. A knife grazed her arm, drawing the faintest line of blood. Instead of slowing her, it only made her sharper. She seized the attacker by the collar, cursed energy surging into her palm, and slammed him into the ground so hard the pavement cracked.

Gasps erupted among the men. Some faltered. Others froze altogether.

Y/N straightened, wiping the smear of blood from her arm with the back of her hand. Her eyes glinted under the streetlight. “Still want to try your luck?”

The fear rippled through them. A few stepped back unconsciously. Others exchanged uncertain looks, waiting for someone braver—or stupider—to move first.

Yuki’s jaw locked. She knew that look in her men’s eyes. It wasn’t loyalty anymore, it was fear. If she didn’t take control now, the whole operation would collapse.

The shotgun man stepped forward, raising his weapon. “Move, I’ll drop her—”

Before he could finish, Y/N flicked her wrist. Ink-like cursed energy rippled into existence, a whip of black slashing across the air. It coiled around the barrel, yanking it sideways just as he pulled the trigger. The shot blasted harmlessly into the night sky.

“Try harder,” she said coldly, pulling the weapon from his hands and tossing it aside like scrap. Gasps spread through the crowd.

The last of the fighters lunged in desperation. Y/N met them head-on, her cursed energy crackling across her body like ink veins under her skin. Every strike dropped another man.

Within minutes, the overlook was littered with groaning, unconscious bodies. Y/N stood in the center of it all, barely winded.

She turned slowly, her eyes locking on Yuki. That smirk returned, sharp and knowing. “Well, that was disappointing. Anything else you want to throw at me?”

Yuki’s breath caught. Her men were down. Her plan was in ruins. And Y/N—Y/N was walking toward her, each step measured, unhurried.

Yuki tried to steady her voice, forcing out a scoff. “Tch... you think this proves anything? You can’t take on Bonten forever.”

Y/N stopped just a few feet away, tilting her head. “Maybe not. But I don’t need forever. I just need tonight.”

The words sent a chill down Yuki’s spine.

For the first time in years, she felt it—fear. Not of Mikey. Not of Rindou or Sanzu. But of the woman standing in front of her, unscathed after tearing through half of Bonten’s soldiers like paper.

The air was heavy, thick with the stench of blood, gasoline, and fear. Y/N had just finished surveying the downed Bonten men when her chest tightened.

Her instincts flared. A pressure, dark and rancid, oozed into the overlook.

Her gaze snapped to the tree line. Shadows swelled unnaturally, pooling together, coiling into something massive.

Then—it stepped out.

Eight feet tall, its body twisted like rotting sinew, its maw lined with jagged teeth that gnashed hungrily. Its long arms dragged against the ground, claws scraping sparks from the pavement. Its eyes were hollow pits, but they glowed faintly, burning with malice.

A curse. A strong one—drawn here by the bloodshed, the negative energy saturating the air like perfume.

Yuki froze, her breath catching in her throat. The men who still had the strength to stand staggered back in horror. “What the hell—what the fuck is that?!” one of them screamed, clutching his bleeding arm.

The curse moved before anyone could answer. With an unholy screech, it lashed out, claws slicing through the nearest man. Blood sprayed across the asphalt, his scream cut short.

Panic erupted instantly.

“Run! Run!” someone shouted, scrambling toward the cars. Engines roared, tires screeched as some men fled without a second thought, abandoning their comrades.

But others weren’t fast enough. The curse grabbed another by the throat, biting into his torso with a sickening crunch. His body fell limp, discarded like trash.

Yuki stumbled back, her face drained of color. “No… no, no, no—what is that—what—”

Y/N grabbed her wrist immediately and yanked her aside, forcing her behind a concrete barrier. “Stay down,” Y/N snapped, voice low but commanding.

Yuki jerked her head toward her, fear breaking into anger. “What are you doing?! We need to—”

But her words were cut off as Y/N’s hands formed a seal, cursed energy pouring out in black tendrils. Her voice echoed with a sharp chant:

“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure.”

A veil was made, cloaking the area in oppressive darkness. The noise of the outside world muted instantly, sealing them in with the monster.

The shift sent the curse’s head snapping toward them. Its hollow eyes fixed on Yuki, sensing her fear like a beacon. With a guttural snarl, it lunged.

Yuki screamed. She stumbled back, arms raised helplessly. “No—no, no, no!”

But the curse never reached her.

Ink bled across Y/N’s arm, one of her tattoos glowing as cursed energy surged through it. The lines twisted, pulsed, then burst into life.

A massive white tiger—Byakko—erupted from her skin with a thunderous roar, slamming into the curse mid-leap. Their collision shook the ground, the force sending Yuki sprawling onto her side.

“What the hell—what the fuck is going on?!” one of the Bonten men shouted from behind a wrecked car, wide-eyed as he watched the two beasts clash.

“They’re fighting—what—what the hell is that tiger—where did it come from?!” another panicked voice rang out.

The curse and Byakko tore into each other, claws raking, teeth snapping. Ink splattered like black fire as the summon bared its fangs, driving the curse back with sheer ferocity.

Y/N stepped forward, cursed energy flooding her limbs. Her tone was calm, but her eyes burned with deadly focus. “Stay down if you want to live,” she threw at Yuki without looking back.

Yuki pressed against the barrier, trembling. Her voice cracked, high-pitched, breaking under fear. “Live? What are you?! What is that thing?! What—what’s happening?!”

Y/N didn’t answer. She sprinted forward, joining the fight. The curse swung at her with its claws, but she slid low, cursed energy sharpening her strikes. She drove her palm into its knee, making it buckle. Byakko seized the opening, pouncing onto its chest, jaws sinking into its neck.

But the curse wasn’t done. With a shriek, it slammed its elbow into Byakko, throwing the beast off, and backhanded Y/N with enough force to send her skidding across the pavement. Sparks tore from the asphalt where she landed, her arm bracing against the ground to stop the slide.

Blood trickled from her lip, but she only smirked, wiping it away. “Is that all?” she muttered, rolling her shoulders.

The curse shrieked again, staggering forward, its wounds steaming as its flesh regenerated. Byakko snarled and circled, awaiting Y/N’s command.

All around, chaos reigned. Bonten men screamed, ducking behind cars, stumbling over each other to escape. Some tried to crawl away only to be snatched up by the curse’s flailing limbs.

And Yuki—Yuki could only watch, her body trembling, her mind unraveling. None of this was possible. None of this was real. Yet here it was. Blood on the pavement. A monster from hell. And Y/N—Y/N standing in front of it, wielding impossible power, tattoos coming to life, a transparent dome cutting them off from the rest of the world.

“Yuki.” Her name cracked through her spiraling thoughts. She looked up.

Y/N stood tall, her eyes fixed on the curse, but her words were aimed at Yuki. “If you don’t want to die, shut up and stay put.”

The curse screeched again, its massive arms swinging wildly, clawed fingers carving gashes into steel and concrete alike. The air shook with each blow. Y/N ducked one swipe, countering with a sharp kick that made the monster stagger, but its backhand came faster than expected. She braced—only to realize too late the strike wasn’t aimed at her.

“Yuki!”

The claw tore across the barrier Yuki hid behind, shredding it like paper. She barely had time to scream before the curse’s talons raked across her side, sending her crashing to the ground in a spray of blood.

Her cry cut through the chaos. “Ahhh—!” Yuki clutched her side, crimson spilling between her fingers, her eyes wide with panic and pain.

Y/N’s chest tightened, fury flaring. She barked an order without hesitation: “Byakko, cover me!” The white tiger roared, leaping onto the curse to wrestle it back, buying her seconds. Y/N dropped to Yuki’s side, kneeling low.

“Stay awake,” Y/N commanded, tearing a strip of her own sleeve to press against the wound. “It’s deep, but not fatal if you keep pressure on it. You’ve got enough time to get treated—just don’t move like an idiot.”

Yuki’s eyes trembled, lips pale. “W-What… what are you…?!” “Later,” Y/N snapped, rising to her feet again. “Right now, focus on breathing.”

Her arm flared with ink once more, another tattoo awakening. A serpentine figure slithered free from her skin, scales shimmering with cursed energy—the Nure-onna, its body coiling protectively near Yuki, hissing at anything that dared approach.

Gasps erupted from the surviving Bonten men hiding nearby. “What the fuck—another one?!” “They’re coming out of her skin—she’s a damn monster too!”

Y/N ignored them, her attention fixed on the curse. Byakko’s roars echoed as the beast clawed and bit, but the curse was stronger—it slammed the tiger into the ground, black ichor spilling from its wounds.

Y/N gritted her teeth, cursed energy swelling. “Alright then… guess we’re doing this my way.”

She spread her arms, ink bleeding from her tattoos in swirling patterns that rose into the air. Her voice resonated, heavy, commanding, “Ink Style: Soul Rendering Stroke.”

The veil shuddered, the very air twisting as her Domain Expansion unfolded. Darkness flooded the overlook, transforming the space into a storm of swirling, cursed ink. Lines and strokes cascaded through the void like a living canvas, brushstrokes carving reality itself.

At the center, a colossal ink brush materialized—its bristles sharpened into a blade. Within this domain, every strike was guaranteed.

The curse shrieked, its body spasming as the environment pressed down on it, stripping away its freedom. Y/N moved first.

Cursed energy surging through her veins. With a single stroke, she slashed across the space—the line of ink didn’t just cut air, it carved directly into the curse’s chest. Black ichor exploded from the wound, the monster’s screech rattling the walls of the domain.

It staggered, but lunged again. Y/N’s tattoos ignited one by one, spectral forms leaping free. Byakko reemerged, bloodied but roaring, charging alongside Nure-onna. From her back, another tattoo flared—a massive crow of ink spreading its wings, swooping down to claw at the curse’s face.

Together, they attacked in unison, the air thick with howls, roars, and hisses.

The curse fought savagely, tearing through ink and striking wildly, but within her domain, it had no chance. Every brush stroke Y/N carved in the air struck true—slicing limbs, shattering its attempts at regeneration.

Yuki, half-conscious but still watching through blurred vision, could only stare in disbelief. “This… this isn’t real…” she whispered, blood dripping from her lips.

Y/N’s voice cut through the storm, calm yet filled with venom, “You picked the wrong place to show up.”

With a final roar, she raised the brush-blade overhead and brought it down. The ink within the domain surged, swallowing the curse whole, dissolving its body into streaks of black that twisted and shattered before vanishing entirely. Its screeches echoed, then were silenced.

The veil cracked, shattering outward. Night returned, quiet except for the groans of injured men and the hiss of tires from those who had fled.

Y/N stood in the center, chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, her tattoos slowly retreating into her skin as the cursed energy dispersed.

Yuki lay a few feet away, trembling, clutching her wound, her eyes wide with fear and confusion.

Y/N approached, kneeling beside her once more. Her voice was steady, but softer now. “You’re still alive. That’s what matters. But you need a hospital now—fast.”

Yuki’s lips trembled, blood streaking down her chin. “...What… what are you? What the hell was that?!”

Y/N met her gaze, expression unreadable. “…Something you’re not ready to understand.” She pressed Yuki’s bloodied hand tighter against the wound. “Stay awake. I’ll get you out of here.”

The night smelled of blood and smoke. The trap had turned into a massacre—not by Y/N’s hand, but by the monster she alone could destroy. And now, with Bonten’s men dead or scattered, one truth settled heavily in Yuki’s chest.

Y/N was more than a ghost from her past. She was something terrifying. Something untouchable. And Yuki had just betrayed her into the hands of monsters who had no idea what kind of storm they were chasing.

Y/N slid her arm under Yuki’s back, trying to haul her upright, but Yuki hissed sharply and shoved at her weakly. “No—no hospital,” Yuki rasped, shaking her head violently despite the pain. “Don’t… don’t you dare.”

Y/N blinked, frowning. “You’re bleeding out. If I don’t call an ambulance—”

“I said no hospital!” Yuki snapped, voice breaking into a cough, scarlet dripping from her lips. Her eyes hardened through the pain. “You think I can just walk into one like nothing’s wrong? You forget who I work for?”

Y/N’s jaw tightened. She understood instantly. A crime syndicate member showing up at a public hospital, riddled with unexplained injuries, would draw too many eyes onto Bonten.

Yuki grit her teeth and waved toward one of the few men still standing, his face pale but phone already in hand. “Call the doctor. Our doctor. Tell him it’s urgent.”

The man nodded frantically, retreating toward the cars as he barked into the line.

Y/N frowned, crouching closer. “A private doctor? That’ll take longer—”

Yuki’s glare sliced her words off. “My body. My choice. And don’t you dare act like you owe me anything. You go. Now.”

But Y/N shook her head, stubborn. “I’m not going anywhere. You got hurt because of me. I’ll see this through.”

Yuki stared at her, incredulous. “You’re insane. You shouldn’t even be here. Do you even realize what’s waiting for you if you walk into Bonten territory?”

Y/N thought for a moment before letting out a sigh, “Better to get it over with than drag it out,” said flatly, eyes never wavering.

Yuki let out a bitter laugh that turned into a painful cough. “You’re either the bravest person I’ve ever met… or the dumbest.”

By the time the private doctor was arranged, two Bonten men hurried forward with a blanket to wrap around Yuki’s torso, stemming the blood. They carefully lifted her, carrying her toward one of the only remaining black cars not wrecked by the fight. The sleek vehicle idled at the edge of the overlook, its tinted windows gleaming under the dim streetlights.

Y/N followed silently, her hands buried in her pockets, her expression unreadable as she slid into the backseat after Yuki.

The car pulled away, engines humming low, tires crunching over shattered glass and spilled blood. The black car sped through the neon-lit streets, engine humming low and steady, while the smell of iron still clung to Yuki’s skin. Y/N sat beside her, hand pressed firmly against her wound, refusing to look away despite Yuki’s occasional groans.

In the front seat, one of the surviving Bonten men had his phone pressed to his ear. His voice was clipped, urgent. “Sir… we’ve got a problem.”

The line crackled faintly. The man swallowed, his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel as he continued. “Yuki-san got injured. She’s bleeding badly. Half of the men are also gone. The place—” he faltered, glancing into the rearview mirror at Y/N and Yuki, then back to the road. “It was like a massacre.”

On the other end, a pause. Then a sharp voice cut through, low and cold: “...What do you mean, gone? Be specific.”

“They’re—” the man clenched his jaw. “They’re dead. Some of them. I don’t even know what the hell we were up against. It wasn’t a crew, it wasn’t a rival gang—” He hesitated, words faltering. “It was… something else.”

The silence on the other end was heavier this time. Then another voice, smoother but with an edge of steel, joined in.

“You’re telling me a handful of nobodies wiped out trained Bonten soldiers?”

The driver gritted his teeth. “I’m telling you it wasn’t human, sir. It— it tore through them like paper.”

The first voice snapped, anger crackling over the line. “Enough with the excuses. Where’s the girl? Did the girl do this?”

The driver glanced in the mirror again. Y/N was still there, calm despite the blood soaking her hands. Yuki’s head leaned back against the leather seat, her face pale but her eyes sharp, still watching.

“No,” the driver muttered reluctantly. “The girl—she fought it too. Without her, Yuki-san and the others would already be dead.”

Another long pause. Then, the smoother voice again:

“Bring them in. Straight to headquarters. Don’t stop anywhere else.”

“Yes, sir.”

The call ended with a sharp click.

Bonten Headquarters

The skyscraper loomed into view not long after. Its polished glass façade reflected the city lights, pristine and towering, a beacon of legitimacy in the heart of Tokyo. Nothing about it screamed “underworld empire.”

The car pulled into the underground parking lot, where men in suits were already waiting. The atmosphere shifted immediately—cold professionalism masking the tension in their eyes as they rushed to open the car doors.

“Yuki-san!” one of them barked, rushing forward. His composure slipped for just a second at the sight of her pale face and the blood staining her clothes.

“Private doctor’s on standby upstairs,” another confirmed, pulling out his phone.

Yuki forced herself upright, her voice sharp despite the weakness in her body. “Take me there. Now.”

Her gaze slid briefly to Y/N, lingering for just a moment before she looked away.

Y/N moved to follow, but one of the men blocked her path instinctively. “You. Stay here.”

The air tensed in an instant. Y/N didn’t flinch, didn’t argue—just met his gaze coolly, her voice even. “I’m not leaving until I know she’s fine.”

The man opened his mouth, ready to snap back, but Yuki’s voice cut across the space, cold and unyielding. “She can come.”

The men exchanged wary glances but obeyed. No one questioned Yuki’s command.

Inside, the building was immaculate—white marble floors, soft lighting, a receptionist desk manned by a woman in a pristine suit. To anyone who walked in, it was just another corporate office. But behind the locked elevators, past the mirrored walls and security scanners, Bonten’s true world awaited.

The elevator ride to the top was suffocatingly silent. Yuki leaned against the wall, clutching her side, while Y/N stood close, steadying her. The men flanking them didn’t dare speak, though their eyes lingered on Y/N, assessing, calculating.

When the doors opened, the top floor spread out like an entirely different world, with dark wood paneling, crystal lights, and a panoramic view of Tokyo glittering through floor-to-ceiling windows. Expensive. Untouchable. And waiting at the far end, a group of men who carried the weight of authority in every gesture.

Mikey sat at the head of the table, unreadable as ever, his sharp eyes taking in the scene with chilling detachment. To his right, Sanzu exhaled smoke lazily, but the look he cast at Yuki’s condition was anything but casual. Kakucho, Rindou, Ran, Kokonoi, Takeomi, and Mochi—all present, their attention narrowing on the two women being led in.

The silence stretched, oppressive, until Mikey finally spoke. “Yuki. Explain.”

Yuki straightened despite the blood seeping through her clothes, her voice firm though faint. “It wasn’t a rival gang. It wasn’t human.”

The men exchanged looks—skeptical.

Ran tilted his head, lips curling with mockery. “Not human? What are we fighting now, ghosts?”

Yuki’s gaze flicked toward Y/N. For the first time, Bonten’s leaders turned their full attention on her, the stranger who had walked into their den, the girl whom they’ve been looking for a while now, bloodied but unbroken.

The air grew heavier, charged with suspicion, the kind of silence that came before a storm.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

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[inkredibleworld]

ɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

A crossover fanfic featuring JJK x F!Reader x Bonten Arc (Tokyo Revengers)

Chapter 05

A/N: slight smut at the start... uh, enjoy?

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The room still smelled faintly of cigarettes and leather—Rindou’s scent, sharp and lingering. Yuki’s back hit the mattress with a muffled gasp, his weight pressing her down, his mouth moving over hers with a hunger that left no room for hesitation. His hand slipped under the hem of her blouse, knuckles grazing hot skin, and she let out a shaky breath against his lips.

“Always running your mouth,” Rindou muttered against her throat, teeth grazing the pulse point. “But this—this is when you shut up for me.”

Her nails dug into his shoulders, the soft fabric of his shirt bunching beneath her grip. The rhythm between them built quickly, fevered touches and stolen breaths blurring time. Yuki’s voice broke in small, breathless sounds as his pace grew rougher, his dominance undeniable, but she still met him with defiance, arching, pulling, leaving marks of her own along his skin.

The world outside fell away, leaving only the rush of blood in their ears and the heat curling between their bodies. When it finally broke, the intensity peaking and then dissolving into shuddering release—Yuki’s head fell back, hair clinging damp against her skin, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

For a long moment, the only sound was the fading echo of their breathing. Rindou rolled to the side, dragging an arm across his forehead, his grin sharp and satisfied.

Yuki, however, stared at the ceiling. Her chest still heaved, but something heavier than exhaustion weighed inside her. She swallowed hard, hesitation tightening her throat.

“...Rindou,” she began softly.

His eyes slid toward her, one brow raised. “Hm?”

She turned her head to face him, lips parted as if searching for the right words. “Earlier... I saw her.”

That caught his attention. He shifted, propping himself on one elbow. “Her?”

Yuki nodded slowly. “The girl you’ve been looking for, Y/N the one Bonten’s been restless about. I ran into her at a restaurant. It was an accident.”

Rindou’s expression sharpened, the lazy satisfaction draining away. “...You what?”

Her voice faltered, but she forced herself to continue. “I— I lost her. My temper got the better of me. I should’ve caught her, but I didn’t.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Then, without warning, Rindou’s hand shot out and wrapped around her throat, not hard enough to cut off air completely, but firm, demanding, a dangerous reminder of the man he was. Yuki’s breath hitched, eyes widening as he leaned closer, his voice low and cold against her ear.

“You’re telling me you finally saw her... and you let her slip away?” His thumb pressed slightly into the hollow of her throat, making her pulse race beneath his grip.

“I—” Yuki’s hands curled against his wrist, not quite pushing him away, not quite yielding either. “I didn’t mean to. I just... lost it for a second—”

“That ‘second’ cost us everything,” he cut her off sharply. His eyes, normally lidded with mockery, now burned with something lethal. “You know how long we’ve been hunting her. Mikey’s patience is wearing thin.”

Her breath came shakier now, partly from his grip, partly from the storm brewing in his words. “I can still fix it. I’ll find her again.”

Rindou’s lips curled into a humorless smirk, though the pressure on her neck didn’t ease immediately. “You better. Because if you don’t...” His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. “You won’t just be explaining yourself to me. You’ll be explaining yourself to Mikey.”

Finally, he released her, his hand falling back onto the sheets. Yuki coughed lightly, touching her throat where his fingers had been, the phantom pressure still lingering. He laid back down, eyes sliding shut, as if the entire outburst hadn’t just happened.

“Figure out a way to meet her again,” he said flatly, voice muffled against the pillow. “Lure her. Trap her. I don’t care how. Just don’t screw it up twice.”

Yuki turned on her side, facing away from him, her chest tight. The heat of their earlier passion had already been replaced with cold dread. She knew this wasn’t just a threat— it was a promise.

I lay there on my side, my back to Rindou, staring into the darkness. The sheets still clung damp against my skin, but the warmth of our moment had long faded. His handprint lingered at my throat like a brand, the ache a cruel reminder that pleasure with him always came with pain. That’s what it meant to be with a man like Haitani Rindou—danger wrapped in silk, affection tangled with violence.

I touched my neck lightly, fingertips grazing the tender skin. My breath shuddered. For a second back there, when his grip tightened, I wasn’t sure if he’d let go.

He always let go. But there would come a day he might not.

My jaw clenched, forcing down the tremor in my chest. I should’ve caught her. The thought wouldn’t leave me. The moment I saw Y/N, my blood had boiled, my temper flared—and just like that, the chance was gone. If I had been sharper, colder, maybe I’d already be walking back to Bonten with her in chains.

Now, instead, I was left with a task that felt like walking on broken glass. Find her. Lure her. Deliver her.

I closed my eyes, the weight of it all pressing on me. If I failed again, Mikey wouldn’t just look at me with disappointment, he’d erase me from the picture completely. And Rindou? He’d be the one holding me down while it happened.

But the truth burned deep in my chest, something I couldn’t say out loud, not even to him, a part of me didn’t want to hand her over. When our eyes met in that restaurant, something in me cracked open. Recognition. Guilt. Maybe even envy. She wasn’t supposed to stir anything in me, yet she did.

I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling. My mind wouldn’t shut up.

Do I betray her... or do I betray them?

Either way, I’d be the one cut open.

Beside me, Rindou’s breathing had already evened out, his body lax and satisfied, like none of this mattered to him now. But it did. Every word he spat, every ounce of venom in his grip—it was a warning.

“Figure out a way,” he had said.

So I would. I had to. Even if it meant breaking something inside me to do it.

Tomorrow, I’d start. I’d retrace my steps, haunt that restaurant if I had to, dig up her shadow until I found her again. I didn’t have the luxury of hesitation anymore.

My hand fell over my chest, pressing against the frantic beat of my heart. Somewhere deep down, I prayed she wouldn’t look at me the same way twice.

Because if she did... I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to deliver her to Bonten.

Yuki had been tailing her for days. Every corner turned, every crowd brushed past, every glimpse of that familiar figure sent a spike of adrenaline through her veins. It was always the same. Y/N moved quickly, carefully, as though she carried secrets too heavy to be seen. Yuki matched her steps from a distance, the weight of Rindou’s threat pressing harder each night she failed to close in.

But today, fate had a cruel sense of humor.

The bell above the door of a small coffee and bakehouse chimed, and Y/N walked in—alone. Yuki lingered across the street, her pulse hammering in her ears. No friends. Just Y/N, tucked into a corner booth with a steaming cup in hand, gazing out the window like she wanted to disappear into the world outside.

Perfect.

Yuki pushed the door open, the warm scent of roasted beans and sugar curling around her as she stepped inside. Her heels clicked softly against the tiled floor. She kept her expression neutral, almost casual, but every step toward the booth made her chest tighten.

“Mind if I sit?” Yuki’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the shop.

Y/N’s eyes widened, startled at first, before narrowing with recognition. A flicker of wariness crossed her face. “...Yuki.”

Yuki slid into the opposite seat without waiting for permission, resting her elbows against the table. She forced a small smile. “Relax. I didn’t come here to fight.”

Silence stretched between them. Only the hiss of the espresso machine filled the gap.

Finally, Yuki exhaled. “About that day... in the restaurant. I lost it. Snapped at you when I shouldn’t have.” Her fingers tapped lightly against her cup, knuckles pale. “I came to apologize.”

Y/N’s lips parted slightly, surprise softening her guarded expression. “...That’s unexpected.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Yuki said, a shadow of a smirk pulling at her mouth. Then, quieter, “But I mean it. I shouldn’t have let my temper get the better of me.”

Y/N studied her carefully, as though weighing how much of that apology was real. Then she shifted, leaning back. “Fine. Apology accepted.”

For a moment, Yuki thought that might be it, that Y/N would shut her out again, retreat into silence. But the words tumbled out before she could stop them.

“Why did you disappear?” Yuki asked, eyes narrowing. “Where have you been all this time? You just—vanished. Do you know how many people have been looking for you?”

Y/N stiffened, gaze flickering to the window. Her hands curled around her cup like it could anchor her. “I had my reasons.”

“That’s not an answer.” Yuki’s voice sharpened, frustration bleeding through. “You left without a word.”

Y/N’s jaw clenched. “I don’t owe you—or anyone else—an explanation. My life isn’t something you or the others get to dissect.”

Yuki’s chest burned. The calm veneer cracked as she leaned forward, her eyes glinting. “What’s so secret that you can’t say it out loud? What are you hiding, huh?”

The intensity in her tone made Y/N flinch, just barely, but she didn’t answer. She looked away, her silence more telling than words.

For a moment, Yuki felt the familiar heat of anger rising, the same fury that had made her lose her grip before. She wanted to slam her hands against the table, demand the truth, shake Y/N until the secrets fell out.

But she stopped. Exhaled. Closed her eyes for half a beat.

Not here. Not now.

When she opened them again, her voice was calmer, smoother. Almost casual. “Fine. Keep your secrets. I won’t push—for now.”

Y/N turned back, suspicious.

Yuki offered a faint smile, tilting her head. “But let me make it up to you. Tonight. Dinner’s on me. Consider it a proper apology.”

Y/N blinked. “Dinner?”

“Yeah.” Yuki leaned back against the booth, crossing her arms. “No tension. No snapping. Just food. You owe me at least a chance to prove I can behave.”

Y/N hesitated. Her instincts screamed at her to be cautious, but something in Yuki’s tone—half sincere, half teasing—wore down her resistance.

“...Fine,” Y/N said at last, her voice slow, careful. “But just dinner.”

Yuki’s smile widened, though her chest twisted. “Deal.”

She slid out of the booth, smoothing her trench coat. As Y/N stood, Yuki rested a hand lightly on her shoulder, guiding her toward the back hallway. “Bathroom’s this way—freshen up before we go. I’ll wait outside.”

Y/N gave her a questioning look but complied, stepping into the narrow restroom.

As soon as the door shut, Yuki’s smile fell. She took out her phone, and gave some instructions. She leaned against the wall, her jaw tightening. Forgive me…

Because this wasn’t just dinner. The restaurant they’d head to will be filled with Bonten’s people, quietly stationed. Guests disguised as diners, servers who weren’t really servers. Every gaze would track Y/N’s every movement, every exit covered.

Tonight wasn’t about reconciliation. It was about capture.

Yuki exhaled slowly, pushing the knot in her chest down deep where it couldn’t be seen. When Y/N came out, she’d be none the wiser.

And Yuki? She’d keep her smile sharp and her voice steady. Because betrayal, she realized, tasted a lot like survival.

The city lights had just begun to bleed across the evening sky when Yuki led Y/N through narrow streets and into a quieter district. Her hands stayed buried in her coat pockets, shoulders relaxed, as if she were simply guiding an old acquaintance out for a meal. Inside, though, every step made her stomach twist tighter.

The restaurant stood at the corner, glowing warm under hanging lanterns. From the outside, it looked unassuming—just another stylish spot with wood-paneled walls and the scent of grilled meat wafting through the air. To Y/N, it was a cozy dinner house. To Yuki, it was a cage with invisible bars.

Pushing the door open, Yuki let Y/N step in first. The bell above the frame chimed softly.

Inside, laughter floated between tables, glasses clinked, and servers moved with practiced ease. To any stranger, it looked like a normal night. But Yuki’s eyes swept the room quickly, recognizing the subtle cues, familiar faces seated among the guests, rings glinting on fingers, tattoos half-hidden under sleeves. Bonten’s men. Watching. Waiting.

Y/N didn’t notice, or at least, didn’t let on. She slid into a booth near the back, placing her bag beside her. Yuki sat across from her, forcing a casual smile as she pulled a menu into her hands.

“Not bad, huh?” Yuki said, nodding around the place. “They make the best food here. Thought you might appreciate it.”

Y/N scanned the room briefly before lowering her gaze. “...It’s nice.”

The server came, setting down water glasses. Yuki ordered lightly, keeping her tone easy, while Y/N chose something simple. Once the menus were taken away, the silence pressed in again.

Yuki leaned back, tilting her head. “You’re hard to pin down, you know that? Always slipping through people’s fingers. Makes me wonder what you’re running from.”

Y/N’s lips tightened. “I told you earlier—I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Not even to me?” Yuki’s voice softened, her eyes fixed on her. “Come on, I apologized. I’m trying here. Give me something.”

Y/N stirred the water with her straw, avoiding her gaze. “Some things aren’t meant to be shared. You wouldn’t understand.”

Yuki felt the sharp sting of rejection prickle under her skin. Her nails dug into her palm beneath the table. Not understand? You think I don’t know what it means to carry secrets that burn you alive?

She almost snapped, almost let the frustration spill out but caught herself. Not here. Not when half the room was waiting for her signal.

Instead, she exhaled slowly, forcing a small laugh. “Fine. Keep your mysteries.”

The food arrived, sizzling plates set between them, the smell of spices filling the air. Y/N’s shoulders eased slightly as she picked up her chopsticks, taking a tentative bite.

For a few moments, it almost felt normal. Two women sharing dinner, small talk slipping in between bites. Yuki asked about other questions, Y/N deflected with vague answers. Yuki teased her for her serious face, Y/N rolled her eyes but almost smiled.

Almost.

But Yuki could feel it—the weight of every stare in the room, the way Bonten’s men shifted subtly, their focus unwavering. Y/N was surrounded and didn’t even realize it.

Guilt gnawed at Yuki’s chest, threatening to choke her harder than Rindou’s hand ever had. She sipped her drink to mask the tremor in her throat. This is survival. If I don’t deliver you, I’m the one who won’t walk out of here alive.

Y/N glanced up suddenly, brows knitting. “...Why are you staring at me like that?”

Yuki blinked, caught off guard. “Like what?”

“Like you’re... conflicted.”

The word cut deep. Yuki set her glass down carefully, lips twitching into a faint smirk to cover the crack in her armor. “You’re imagining things. Maybe I just like watching you eat.”

Y/N gave her a look, half suspicious, half unreadable—before returning to her food.

Yuki’s heart thudded in her ears. She had to end this soon, push the night toward its purpose. Slowly, she leaned in across the table, voice dropping low.

“After this... let’s take a walk. There’s a spot nearby with a good view of the city. You’ll like it.”

Y/N hesitated, chopsticks frozen mid-air. “...Why?”

“Call it part two of my apology,” Yuki said smoothly, though her palms had gone cold. “No tricks, just a view.”

The lie slid easily off her tongue, but the guilt sat heavy in her chest. Because that “view” wasn’t a lookout—it was the signal point. Once she guided Y/N there, Bonten would close in.

Y/N studied her for a long moment, eyes searching. Yuki held her gaze, steady, unflinching.

Finally, Y/N sighed. “Fine. But this is the last favor you get from me.”

Yuki forced a smile, raising her glass in a mock toast. “I’ll take it.”

As they clinked glasses, Yuki felt the noose tightening. Every step after tonight would drag Y/N deeper into Bonten’s hands. And Yuki, no matter what her heart whispered, was the one tightening the rope.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

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